







•^^^ 



^- ^iMm, ?#*^' 



THE 



GENIUS OF ITALY: 



OR, FACT AND POETRY FROM 



Italian fife, f iterated, aiii ^riijioii 



/ w 



BY 



ROBERT TURN BULL; 

AUTHOR OF THE "GENIUS OF SCOTLAND," "CHRIST IN HISTORY,*' ETC. 



Fourth Revised and Illustrated Edition. 

WdB AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING SKETCHES OF MAXXTNI, GAVAZZI, AND OTHEIJS. 



NEW YOEK: 

.TAS. S. DTOKKRSON, 69^? BROADWAY 

(855. 









^f WASH 









Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by 

ROBERT TURNBULL, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court, for the Southern District of 
New- York, 



STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY E. O. JENKINS, 

114: Nassau Street, New-York. 



(?(H 



t/l 



TO THE 



REV. ROLLIN HEBER NEALE 



BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, 



THE AUTHORS TRAVELLING COMPANION IN ITALY AND OTHER LANDS, 



THIS VOLUME, 



AS A MEMORIAL OF PLEASANT DATS AND PLEASANT SCENES, 



IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. 



PREFACE. 



Let no one suppose that, in the following pages, we are about to 
inflict npon him another Tour in Italy. Our object is not so 
much to write incidents of travel, or descriptions of scenery, roads, 
public buildings, and that '^ sort of thing,'' with which most vol- 
umes on Italy are filled to repletion ; but to furnish some idea 
of the real character and spirit of the Italian people ; to give brief, 
and, if possible, vivid glimpses of their life, literature, and religion, 
as these are embodied in men and books, in history and usages. 

In order to do this with greater freshness and interest, we have 
taken our readers along with us through the principal parts of 
the country, especially the larger and more influential cities, and 
have indulged only in such occasional descriptions of scenery and 
localities as might furnish a sufficient background for our obser- 
vations, or a becoming framework for our portraits. 

The genius of a country is always localized ; and it gives one a 
clearer and more ioipressive view of its religion, literature, and 



viii PREFACE. 



politics, to see them in loco, or to become acquainted with them 
in the very scenes with which they are associated. 

The plan is similar to that pursued in '* The Genius of Scot- 
land/* with perhaps less of description and incident, and more of 
history and biography, general observation and reflection. That 
work, which has enjoyed a reception far beyond the author's 
expectation, was written somewhat rapidly, as a simple relaxation 
from severer duties. The present, though more carefully fin- 
ished, and containing a greater amount of information, possesses a 
similar character. A portion of it was written in Italy, during a 
brief but delightful tour through that country, and the rest at 
such times as the author could spare from more important 
engagements. The recent changes and revolutions in Italy will 
be found described, in their appropriate places. 

He has aimed especially to furnish a just idea of the present 
state and future prospects of the Italian race. Those who wish 
further information upon this subject, will find it in the volumes 
of Balbo and Azeglio, and especially of L. Mario tti, professor in the 
London University, and author of " Italy, Past and Present, "the 
two former in Italian, the latter in English. Mariotti has thoroughly 
mastered the intricacies of the English language, and writes with 
energy and eloquence. He deserves the thanks of all lovers of 
Italy and Italian literature, for his able and ingenious expositions 
of both. 

It may be well to state here, that some of the earlier portions 
of the work having been written previous to the late revolutions 
in Italy, a passage here and there m^y appear almost obsolete. 



PREFACE. IX 



We have chosen, however, to let such passages stand without 
modification, because they serve to indicate, in a striking manner, 
the nature of the changes which have occurred. Let the reader 
pass on, and he will find a tolerably accurate account of the pres- 
ent condition of things in the leading Italian States, and some 
suggestions as to their probable destiny.. The present, indeed, 
is a most critical juncture in the affairs of Continental Europe. 
War has already commenced in the north of Italy ; and a few 
days may produce an entire revolution in the whole Italian penin- 
sula. Liberty and despotism have met front to front. The 
Pope, once liberal, calls to the enemies of his country, to re- 
store him to his throne, over the dead bodies of his once be- 
loved flock, the patriots of Rome ! What will be the issue of 
this strange drama, time alone will reveal. After all, the age of 
despotism is past; and even if Austria should triumph, her tri- 
umph will be brief and unsatisfactory. Liberty, crushed and 
wounded, shall rise again, and assert her right to supreme and 
universal dominion. 

But the ink from our penis scarcely dry, when we are startled 
with the news that Charles Albert, at the head of the Sardinian 
army, has been completely routed by the Austrians, and that he 
has abdicated his thl^one in favor of his son, Victor Emmanuel, to 
whom it is supposed the Austrian government will concede much 
which they might withhold from his father. , The Pope, then, 
we presume, goes back to Rome, as we predicted in the body of 
the work ; the preface, which is the first thing seen by the read- 



PREFACE. 



er, but the last written by the author, giving us an opportunity 
of referring to this circumstance. So also, in all probability, the 
Grand Duke of Tuscany returns to Florence, and the newly 
formed Italian republics may once more become monarchies. 
Austria, as of old, will regulate the aflfairs of the peninsula, and 
dispose of its revenues. 

Thus freedom recedes for the present, but only to gather fresh 
strength for another and more successful effort at some future 
day. Perhaps, too, it may be well, that, for a few years longer, 
the strong hand of power should hold in check the wild and irre- 
gular impulses of Italian democracy, and thus condense it into 
greater compactness and vigor. We trust it will learn wisdom, 
by the things which it is called to suffer. 

In the hope that the present volume may aid in giving some 
just conception of the genius, the present state, and probable des- 
tiny of one of the most interesting countries in the world, and 
supply some useful hints on the various topics which it embraces, 
the author commits it to the kind consideration of his friends and 
the public. 

Hartford, Conn, 



NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 

While the present edition has been subjected to a thorough 
revision, we have preferred, as in the first, to let those parts of 
the work written before the revolutions in Italy, remain unal- 
tered. 



NOTE TO THE REVISED EDITION. 

It is proper here to say, that owing to the rapid changes 
which have occurred in Italy since the revolutions of 1848, the 
author of the following work has found it necessary, as the suc- 
cessive editions have been called for, slightly to modify or add 
to some of his statements. This, of course, has been done with- 
in very narrow limits, as the work is stereotyped. He believes, 
however, that little of any moment has been omitted, which is 
not entirely familiar to the reading public. A few passages, left 
unchanged, may seem anomalous and almost obsolete ; but they 
are permitted to stand, as they serve to mark the singular trans- 
formations of Italian society, and may thus possess a certain 
historical interest. Several conjectural predictions which the 
author ventured to make, in the first edition of the work, have 
been remarkably verified. Others yet remain to be fulfilled. 

Sardinia, under its present enlightened government, has en 
tered upon a noble career of improvement. Eome, Venice, and 
Milan are biding their time. Florence is not without hope, and 
even Naples, one of these days, may cast off the incubus which 
oppresses her. Great obstacles are in the way ; but freedom, 
like truth, is strong and immortal. Crushed down under moun- 
tains of despotism, it swells and flames up, like the subterranean 
fire of Vesuvius, rushing resistless through thick strata of superin- 
cumbent rock. To-day it seems dead and silent as the grave, 
to-morrow it rises and shouts vivas to the gathering millions. 



I^OTE TO THE REVISED EDITION. 



"Through all the long, dark night of years 

The people ^s cry ascendeth ; 
And Earth is wet with blood and tears, 

But our meek sufferance endeth ! 
The Few shall not for ever sway, 

The many moil in sorrow : 
The Powers of Hell are strong To-day, 

But Christ shall rise To-morrow !" 

In the Appendix will be found some additional notices of 
Mazzini, the leader of " Young Italy," as also of Gavazzi, Gari- 
baldi, and others, which will supply all that is necessary to give 
the reader a tolerable idea of the character and power of the 
revolutionary element. 

It is not, however, the aim of a work of such narrow compass 
and desultory character to occupy much of the reader's attention 
with the politics of Italy, transitional as they are, but rather to 
introduce him to some of its treasures of nature and art, and 
especially to give him an idea (albeit a slight one) of its re- 
sources of beauty and power, as developed in the lives and pro- 
ductions of its great thinkers, artists and poets. 

Our obligations are due, for valuable documents, to Mr. Secchi 
De Casali, the accomplished Editor of VEco de Italia. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 



Introductory — Claims of Italy — Prayer of Petrarch — ^Beauty the prin- 
cipal feature in the Italian landscape — Its position and general 
aspect — Language and Literature — Characteristics of its Sculptui'e, 
Painting and Music — Harmony between Natural and Moral Beauty 
— Spirit and Form — Final Reconcilement of all things — Design of this 
work. 17 



CHAPTER II. 

First view of Italy — Descent of the Alps—Lago Maggiore — Borro- 
mean Isles — Cardinal Borromeo — The Church in Locarno — Its perse- 
cutions and trials — Final Banishment — Persecution in Italy — Re- 
ligious Liberty — Arona — Evening Scene on the Lake — Ippolito 
Pindemonte — His verses on Night. .... . . 80 

CHAPTER III. 

Lombardy — Aspect of the country— Condition of the inhabitants — 
Brief sketch of the History of Lombardy— Milan — Description of the 
city — The Cathedral — View from the summit — Sunset on the Alps — 
Interior of the Cathedral 41 



xii CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER IV. 



Silvio Pellico — Sketch of his Life — Distinguished Writers in Milan — 
Establishment of the Conciliator — Its suppression — Imprisonment of 
Silvio Pellico, Maroncelli and others — The " Mie Prigione," My Pris- 
ons, of Silvio Pellico — ^Extracts — Canzone written in prison. . . 49 

CHAPTER V. 

Ugo Foscolo — Sketch of his life — Hymn to the Graces — Poem of 
I Sepolcri — Alessandro Manzoni — Tragedy of the *' Conte Carmagno- 
la" — Ode on the Death of Napoleon — Monti — His Career — Poetry — 
" The Fall of Jerusalem," from the Bassevilliana — Parini — Beccaria. 60 

CHAPTER VI. 

Venice — View from the Tower of St. Mark — Sketch of Venetian His- 
tory — Prosperity — Freedom — Degeneracy — JSTarrow and Despotic 
Policy — Cruelty — The Foscari — Council of Ten — Police — Anecdote 
of a French Nobleman — Revolution — First, Second and third Acts of 
the Drama — Hope. 77 

CHAPTER VII. 

Celebrated Venetians — Marco Polo — Pietro Bembo — Era Paolo Sar- 
pi — Titian — Tintoretto — Goldoni — Canova — Ocello of Sienna — Spe- 
cimen of his Preaching — " Justification by faith." . . . 91 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Ferrara — ^The Days of Duke Borso — Ferrara the Asylum of Literary 
Men — Its Distinction in Literature — Duke Alphpnso and his Sisters 
— Ariosto—Sketch of his Life — Orlando Furioso — Specimens of his 
Poetry. . . 103 

CHAPTER IX. 
Tasso— His Character and Genius — The " Gerusalemme Liberata.** 118 



CONTENTS. xiii 



CHAPTER. X. 



The Ducal Circle in the youth of Tasso — Queen Renee and her daugh- 
ters — Visitors — Calvin and Marot — French version of the Psalms — 
Madame de Soubise and her daughter Anne of Parthenai — Giraldi 
— Fulvio Morata — Curio — Aonio Palaeario — Calcagnani — Pier Man- 
zolli — Oljmpia Morata. 131 

CHAPTER XI. 

Sunrise among the Apennines — Scenery — Feudal Castles — Spirit of 
the Early Republics — Tendencies in Italy to Centralization — False 
views of Liberty — Its true nature — Based on Virtue — Ko true free- 
dom in Italy — Hopes — Scenery^Fellow-Traveliiers — Conversation 
on Religion — Catholic miracles, &c. — Approach to Florence — Its 
beauty — Associations and distinctions — Sketch of the History of 
Florence — Its present state and prospects 142 

CHAPTER XII. 

Florence distinguished in Literature — Dante and the Divina Comme- 
dia — His Character and Genius — Early Days — Portrait — Beatrice 
and the Vita N"uova — Wanderings — Controlling Spirit and Object of 
his Life — His Death — Honors — Extraordinary Genius — Real import 
of the Commedia — Dante and Michael Angelo — Characteristics of 
Dante's Poetry — Origin of the Commedia — Its general character 
and aim . 162 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Petrarch and Boccaccio — Their Character and Genius — Influence upon 
Literature 19t 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Lorenzo de Medici — Pulci — Curious Scientific Anticipations — Da Vinci 
as a Philosopher — Politian — Machiavelli and the Politics of the Age 



iv CONTENTS. 

— Leo Tenth and Religion — The Reformation — Decline of Italian 
Literature in the Seventeenth Century — Filicaja — Science — Galileo 
— Kepler — Discoveries of Galileo — His spirit — Science devout — Per- 
secutions of Scientific Italians — Galileo's condemnation by the Inqtii- 
sition — Death — Triumph of his opinions — Interview between Galileo 
and Milton — Science in Italy^ — Poetry — Alfieri — ^Niccolini and others 
— Abbe Lambruschini — Mazzini. . . . . . . . 209 



CHAPTER XV. 

Kome — The Campagna — Approach to the city — Its general aspects- 
View from the Capitol — Its sacred or ecclesiastical character — Rome 
a Church — Its citizens, priests, monks, shrines, relics, churches, ceremo- 
nies, etc. — The Pope — Religious services — Pagan element — A stroll 
towards the Vatican, Coliseum, etc. — Capella della Humilta — Ser- 
vices — Preaching 233 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Pope Pius the Ninth — The strongest and weakest of the Popes — Con- 
trasts — Pope Hildebrand and Pope Pius — Flight from Rome — The 
Pontificate of Gregory Sixteenth — Pontificate of Pius Ninth — Changes 
— Revolution — Real position of Pius — Prospects of Italy. . . 257 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Gioberti, " The Prophet of Italy" — His Primato — Theocratic views — 
Reception in Italy — Effect upon Charles Albert, Marquis Azeglio 
and others — ^Their probable fate — Father Ventura — His character and 
relations to Pius Ninth — His eloquence — Views and influence — Fune- 
ral Sermon for O'Connell — Problem of Gioberti, Ventura and Pius 
Ninth — Anticipated Fall of the Papacy , 276 

CHAPTER XVIII. 
The Bay and City of Naples— Government and People — Revolution 



CONTENTS. XV 



— Counter-revolution — ^The Villa Reale — Posilipo — Virgil's Tomb — 
Pozzuoli, the ancient Puteoli — Grotto of Posilipo. . . 288 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Churches of Naples — Religious and moral condition — Peculiarities of 
the people — Lazzaroni — Campo Santo, etc. .... 301 

CHAPTER XX. 

Literature of Naples — Sannazzaro — Costanzo — Marini — " Fading Beau- 
ty" — Italian Philosophers — Mirandol^ — Neapolitan Philosophers — 
Vico — The " New Science" — Closing paragraph of the " Scienza No- 
vella" — Genovesi — Giannone — Filangieri 316 

CHAPTER XXI. 

A Sail on the Bay — Views — Island of Ischia — Vittoria Colonna — Her 
Life and Poetry — Naples by Moonlight — Hope for the Future. ; 325 



ITALY, 

PROEM. 

On a soft summer afternoon, two friends were wandering on 
the banks of Lake Leman. They had seen all that was to be 
seen in Switzerland, and some other European countries. It was 
their desire to visit Palestine ; but the season was too far ad- 
vanced, and their time of furlough nearly exhausted. The ques- 
tion then was discussed, where, they should go next, before 
returning to their distant home. Turning quickly to his com- 
panion, after a slight pause, one of them said — 

" Know'st thou that land f 

"What land r 

*' That land — the most beautiful in the world, and next to 
Palestine the most famous in song and story." 

" England, or perhaps your own Scotland ?" 

" No, not even Scotland, dear as it is." 

"Well, then, what landf 

" Why, you know it well enough, for it must have been the 
dream of your youth, when conning the classic page ; — 

'^ ' That land where the lemon- trees bloom — 

Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, 
Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, 
And the groves are of myrtle, and laurel, and rose — 
Know'stthouit?'" 



PROEM 



"Ah ! you mean Italy ; for these are the words of Mignon, in 
Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjahre ; and most exq-uisitely do they 
picture some of the exterior peculiarities of her native clime* — 
But—" 

"But what? You must not say a word, we are going thither. 
Come, let us be off by sunrise to-morrow morning. We shall 
have a charming ride along the banks of the Rhone, and across 
the Bernese Alps, and such glorious views of Italy, on the further 
side of Alpine summits, as shall well repay us for the whole 
journey, even before touching Italian soil." 

" Excuse me, but we haven't time, and really your enthusiasm 
is a little extravagant. To be sure, Italy has points of interest, 
but, as a whole, it is but a poor, priest-ridden country. I'd 
rather go to some other land. Even Austria, and above all, 
Hungary would be better. Everybody goes to Italy, and scrib- 
bles about it all sorts of magniloquent nonsense. The whole 
region has been written to perfect inanity. I'm. almost tired of 
the very name. Florence, Rome, Naples — why, they are almost 
as common as Broadway. And to tell the honest truth, Italy is 
by no means the glorious land which it is ' cracked up' to be. 
The literature is feeble, the religion superstitious, and the poli- 
tics absurd. No — I would rather go any whither than Italy." 

A cunning smile played about the lips of our friend, and we 
concluded he did not quite believe what he said. At any rate, 
we were quite sure he was mistaken, in many respects, so we 
replied, with energy — 

" Nonsense, and you know it. Every one who has the slight- 
est tincture of taste or scholarship, well knows that Italy is one 
of the most interesting countries in the world. Poor and priest- 
ridden she may be, yet glorious still — glorious in her monuments 
and memories, glorious in her spirit of beauty and song. The 



PROEM.. 



soil is hallowed by the grandest associations. Every spot is 
classic ground. Besides, we shall see it with our own eyes^ and 
although myriads of others have gazed upon its beauty, that 
beauty will appear new and peculiar to us." 

'* Granted," said our friend, with a grave complacency, " but — " 

" There, again, that ominous but — hut I won't hear it. We 
are going to Italy ; that's settled. And you might as well con- 
fess that you are pleased with the prospect. Ah, ' such times' 
as we shall have wandering among the green Apennines, plung- 
ing in shady groves of orange and olive, or gazing in rapt wonder 
upon the sculptured glories of genius and art !" 

" Well, well, have it your own way. Italy has faults enough, 
God knows, and you know ; and I honestly confess to a certain 
prejudice against her, not indeed on account of any intrinsic de- 
fect in the country as such, or in the native character of the peo- 
ple, but on account of the horrible system of error and despotism 
under which she has groaned for ages." 

" The more worthy of our pity on that very account, and pity, 
you know, is akin to love." 

We returned to our lodgings, after having engaged a passage 
across the lake to Lausanne, whence we intended to take the 
diligence along the banks of the Rhone and across the Alps to 
Milan. But far into the night we kept musing on Italy, recount- 
ing to ourselves her various attractions, in a sort of straggling 
monologue. Much of this, and something more, may be found 
in the succeeding chapter. Hasty or impatient readers may 
pass it, if they please, and begin the book with the second chap- 
ter. We trust, however, that some gentle readers may honor it 
with their attention. 



GENIUS OF ITALT. 



CHAPTER I. 



INTRODUCTORY. 

Claims of Italy — Prayer of Petrarcli — Beauty the principal feature in the 
Italian Landscape — Its Position and General Aspect— Language and 
Literature — Characteristics of its Sculpture, Painting, and Music — Har- 
mony between Natural and Moral Beauty — Spirit and Form — ^Final 
reconcilement of all Things — Design of this "Work. 

Few countries have played a more important part in the affairs 
of mankind than Italy. Fewer still present, to cultivated minds, 
more varied points of attraction and study. Once the queen of 
the world, she swayed her sceptre over a population of more 
than a hundred and twenty millions, and embraced, in her ample 
grasp, a territory which touched the gray hills of Scotland and the 
burning sands of Africa, which stretched beyond the Pillars of 
Hercules, and swept eastward to the Euphrates and the Caspian 
sea. For ages Italy was the centre of military power and splen- 
dor ; the scene of boundless ambition and incredible exploits. 
This was the home of the Scipios and the Caesars, of Cato and 
the Gracchi ; here sang Horace and Virgil, Terence and Tibullus. 
It was in Italy that Christianity found an early home, and 



18 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



acquired a dominion wider and more magnificent than that of 
the Caesars. In the lapse of time she was overrun by northern 
barbarians, but retained her beauty and pride, conquered her 
conquerors by the silent might of her knowledge and refine- 
ment, and shone like a star in the night of ignorance which 
enveloped the neighboring nations. From her fair bosom sprang 
the republics of Genoa, Florence, and Venice, which diffused, far 
and wide, as from a centre, the influence of science and letters, 
of freedom and the arts. Often drenched in blood, and torn by 
intestine broils, falling into weakness and decay, writhing under 
the iron hoof of the Gaul, the Spaniard and the German, divided 
into petty kingdoms, and oppressed by miserable despots, civil 
and ecclesiastical, Italy remembers, and will ever more remem- 
ber, the days of old, and struggle upward, amid agony and 
tears, to grasp the fair ideal of truth and liberty. Hope lies 
warm at her bleeding heart, and will yet realize her fondest 
dreams in the better time to come. 

But these are not the only claims which Italy oflTers to our 
regard. It is the very home of beauty, the land of poetry and 
song, the haimt of all fair forms, of all divine melodies. Here 
Dante, Tasso and Ariosto sang ; here Eaphael, Titian and Angelo 
painted, as with hues of heaven ; here Machiavelli and Vico 
speculated, and here "the starry Galileo," from the- heights 
of Fiesole, gazed into the opening heavens. It is a country in 
which, through a long series of ages, the human intellect has 
displayed all the resources of genius and power ; whose scholars 
first revealed to Europe the literary treasures of antiquity ; whose 
jurists expounded those "principles which form the basis of juris- 
prudence in most of the European nations ; whose navigators 
added to the boundaries of the old world the vast regions of the 
new ; whose poets first fired the bosoms of Chaucer and Milton, 
and lent a strange melody to the native strength and grandeur 



INTRODUCTORY. 19 



of those masters of tlie lyre ; whose genius, moreover, during the 
long night of despotism and degradation, maintained its suprem- 
acy over the minds of men, and is now beginning once .more to 
gleam, with a new and increasing radiance, along the banks of 
the Arno, and in the shadow of the Coliseum. 

That Italy has deep and grievous faults, aL will admit. That 
some of her features even now are dark and repulsive, none will 
deny. Here, under the very shadow of the cross, rose some of 
the most terrific forms of superstition and tyranny. Lust and 
cruelty, anarchy and bloodshed, have marred her beauty. The 
most glorious hopes of man have, even here, been trodden in the 
dust. Truth and error, freedom and despotism, have struggled 
in deadly combat ; the groans of dying martyrs have ascended 
to heaven ; and all that is beautiful in the devotion of heaven- 
born souls has been quenched in blood. Nevertheless, Italy has 
claims not only to our admiration, but to our gratitude. No one 
can become acquainted with her history without love and pity. 
Few even of those who are the most averse to her institutions 
and spirit, can fail to sympathize with the prayer of Petrarch, in 
one of his Canzones. 

" O my own Italy ! Though words are vain 

The mortal wounds to close, 
Unnumbered that thy beauteous bosom stain ; 
Yet may it soothe my pain 

To sigh forth Tiber's woes 
And Arno's wrongs, as on Po's saddened shore, 
Sorrowing I wander, and my numbers pour. 
Ruler of heaven I by the ^11-pitying love 
That could thy Godhead move, 
To dwell a lowly sojourner on earth, — 
Turn, Lord, on this thy chosen land thine eye I" 

The principal feature of the Itahan landscape is beauty. Lymg 



20 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



between the blue waves of tbe Mediterranean and the Adriatic, 
backed by the ''sovereign Alps," with their dark forests and 
glacier peaks, traversed through hei whole length by the lofty but 
beautiful Apennines, with here and there the bare and blackened 
summit of an extinct volcano, and crowned, at the bay of Naples, 
with the smoking cone of Mount Vesuvius, Italy has features of 
grandeur and majesty; but her predominant aspect is that of 
serene beauty. With a sky of the softest blue, an atmosphere 
the clearest and blandest in the world, a fertile soil, and a rich 
garniture of verdure and trees; gladdened moreover by limpid 
streams brawling among the hills, or sleeping, in pellucid pools 
and crystal lakes, in the depths of valleys ; covered with vines 
and olive trees, myrtles and aloes, among which the white villa, 
the trellised cottage, the old church, and the hoary ruin of by- 
gone days are gleaming ; with here and there some ancient palace, 
or old tower crowning the summits, or, it may be, some splendid 
city lying on the waters, like N'aples and Venice, or standing on 
the plain amid surrounding hills, like Florence and Rome, or seeu 
from afar upon a mountain ledge, like Genoa, Gaeta and Amalfi— 
the whole land presents an aspect of rich and ever-varying beauty. 
This feature of Italian scenery is often referred to by her poets, 
with a sort of passionate admiration. It is also frequently speci- 
fied as the great temptation of her invaders, and one of the causes 
of her degradation and suffering. Thus Pietro Bembo, in one of 
his sonnets, exclaims : 

"Fair land, once loved of Heaven o'er all beside, 
Which blue waves gird, and lofty mountains screen, 
Thou clime of fertile fields and sky serene, 
Whose gay expanse the Apennines divide 1 
What boots it now that Rome's old warlike pride 
Left thee of humbled earth and sea the queen ? 
Nations that served thee then now fierce convene 
To tear thy locks and strew them o'er the tide." 



INTRODUCTORY. 21 



Byron, too, catcliing the spirit, and indeed using the language 
of the ItaUan poets, breaks out in those beautiful and burning 
lines : 

" Italia ! Oh, Italia, thou who hast 
The fatal gift of beautv which became 
A funeral dower of present woes and past, 
On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame, 
And annals graved in characters of flame. 
Oh God ! that thou wert in thy nakedness 
Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim 
Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press 
To shed thy blood and drink the tears of thy distress 1" 

This, however, is but a free and happy translation of one of 
Filicaja^s odes, commencing thus : 

" Italia, oh Italia ! hapless thou 
Who didst the fatal gift of beauty gain, 
A dowry fraught with never-ending pain, 
A seal of sorrow stamped upon thy brow " 

Alessandro Manzoni, one of the most original and striking 
writers of modern Italy, makes a similar reference to his native 
land, in one of the choruses of his " Conte Carmagnola/' 

" thou devoted land that canst not rear 
In peace thine offspring ! thou the lost and won, 
The fair and fatal soil, that dost appear 
Too narrow still for each contending son ! 
Receive the stranger in his fierce career, 
Parting the spoils ! thy chastening has begun ! 
And wresting from thy kings the guardian sword, 
Foes whom thou ne'er hadst wronged sit proudly at thy board." 

But not only is beauty the predominant feature in the physical 



22 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



aspect of Italy, it is the chief element in its language and litera- 
ture. The language is melody itself, and wonderfully harmonizes 
with the soft beauty and mellow splendor of the landscape. The 
very common people speak it with a grace which is irresistible. 
It seems to warble from the lips of children like the song of early 
birds. It is ever gliding into poetry and song. Hence the 
wonderful facility of the Italian Improvisatori. It is indeed 
capable of the utmost compression and force. The Italian 
translation of Tacitus occupies less space than the original.* 
Nothing can exceed the rugged energy of some parts of 
Dante's Divina Commedia, or the trenchant force of Alfieri's 
tragedies. Nevertheless, the language is naturally soft and melo- 
dious, imaging, in its clear flow, all forms of beauty, and spark- 
ling with the sunny radiance of its native skies. This, however, 
as some good judges have affirmed, has tended, particularly in 
the case of inferior writers, to corrupt Italian literature ; so that 
poverty of thought is often disguised " under a melodious redun- 
dancy of diction." Hence, too, some of their graver compositions, 
and especially their specimens of eloquence, are defective in sim- 
plicity and force. Some allowance, however, must be made for 
the influence of a sunny clime, and an ardent temperament. 
What seems flashy and magniloquent in northern Europe or 
America, may be perfectly natural in southern Italy. The soft 
and luxuriant beauty of their diction, soon palling upon our ear, 
may possess for them an irresistible and unwearied charm. A 
sense of harmony, a passionate love of the beautiful, a refined 
taste and a cultivated ear, seem almost universally difi*used among 
the people. Some of the finest strains of Petrarch, Tasso, and 
Ariosto, are familiar to multitudes among the lower orders. The 

* Hallam speaks somewhat disparagingly of this translation. Others 
however, equally capable of judging, accord it high praise. 



INTRODUCTORY. 23 



gondoliers of Venice were accustomed formerly to accompany 
their movements on the water, and reply to each other in the 
verses of Tasso, through the long summer night. The fine tones 
of the Tuscan peasants have often been admired. Who has not 
heard of 

" The Tuscan's siren tongue, 
That music in itself, whose words are song ?" 

The boys of Naples, even the lowest lazzaroni, are constantly 
chanting the melodies which are sung in the operas. You hear 
them during the hours of the night ringing changes on their 
favorite, though somewhat monotonous and melancholy airs. 
The peasantry in the south of Italy go to market murmuring 
gay tunes. Ragged and poor, they will listen for hours in the 
public squares, or in the shadow of some old temple, to the wild 
poetry of the Improvisatori, with no other refreshment than a 
glass of cold water. 

The same sense of beauty is seen in the variety and elegance 
of their costumes, whose picturesque arrangement often appears 
as if borrowed from the models of ancient statuary ; in their love 
of natural scenery and out- door recreations ; in the flowers and 
other ornaments with which on fete-days they adorn their churches 
and public buildings ; and in the graceful manner in which the 
peasantry cause the grape vines to hang, in long festoons, about 
their cottages, and among the trees of their gardens and orchards. 
In the larger cities you see much squalid misery; but in the 
country everything is picturesque and beautiful. On hillside and 
in valley, pretty cottages are nestling amid tufted trees, luxuriant 
vines and flowers. 

Imaginative and impassioned, the Italian writers, especially the 
poets— and almost all of them are more or less poets — ^give them- 



24 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



selves up to the full play of their fancy, and revel in the wildest 
imaginings, the most delicate and brilliant illusions. Even in the 
horrid scenes of the Inferno, gleams of beauty are ever breaking 
upon the vision ; and in the description of heaven, Dante loses him- 
self in unutterable splendors. Beatrice, with her cerulean eyes and 
golden hair, is the symbol of "increate'^ and everlasting beauty. 
Light, music, and motion, are the three simple elements in Dante's 
description of the celestial world, but how wondrously and gor- 
geously blended in the overpowering glory of its mystic circles. 
Boccaccio, Ariosto, Pulci, Berni and Metastasio, are *' drunk with 
beauty. '' It was as much the beauty of the moon and stars, as 
their wondrous revolutions, that captivated the heart of Galileo. 
Macbiavelli, cold and subtle as he may be deemed, was a poet, 
and never enjoyed himself better than among his birds and vines. 
Beauty was the polar star of Petrarch, who strangely mingles the 
raptures of devotion and of love. It was the dream of Tasso, 
and gleams, with a supernal glory, through the long and majestic 
march of the Gerusalemme. Much indeed of the Italian poetry 
is liable to stern reprehension, on account of its low moral tone, 
its frivolity and licentiousness ; but its pervading element is beauty, 
radiant and immortal. 

The same element is visible in all the productions of their paint- 
ers and sculptors. The serene beauty of Raphael's Madonnas 
is absolutely wonderful. Michael Angelo's Moses, and his two 
statues of Night and Morning, are remarkable for severity and 
grandeur of expression, but, after all, it is the divine beauty which 
beams from the whole, which gives them their peculiar charm. 
Walk through the long corridors of the Vatican, or the magnifi- 
cent rooms of the Pitti palace, amid a wilderness of sculptures 
and paintings from the hands of the great masters of ancient and 
of modern Italy, and the very air seems redolent of beauty. It 
awes the spirit like a presence and a mystery. In those silent 



INTRODUCTORY. 25' 



forms it lives forever, imbreathed by the power of genius — a 
charm and a glory acknowledged alike by the philosopher and 
the savage. For, 

" A thing of beauty is a joy forever l" 

Nothing, it would seem, could be more repulsive than the head 
of Medusa, environed with snakes, and yet, in the hands of Leo- 
nardo da Yinci, it is made attractive, by means of a strange, and, 
if the term be allowed, a hideous beauty. Shelley has caught 
the true idea, in one of his most striking, though unfinished 
poems. 

" It lieth gazing on the midnight sky, 

Upon the cloudy mountain peak supine ; 

Below, far lands are seen tremblingly ; 
Its horror and its beauty are divine. 

Upon its lips and eyelids seem to lie 

Loveliness like a shadow, from which shrine, 

Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, 

The agonies of anguish and of death. 

Yet it is less the horror than the grace 
Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone ; 

Whereon the lineaments of that dead face 
Are graven, till the characters be grown 

Into itself, and thought no more can trace ; 
'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown 

Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, 

Which humanize and harmonize the strain." 

Of course we need not say that the music of Italy corresponds 
to the beauty of her landscape, consisting as it does in elaborate, 
but intense and ravishing harmony. Who has not heard of 
2 



26 GENIUS OF ITALY. 

Rosini, with his e xquisite creations ; and who has not been moved, 
at the recollection even, of the '^ Stabat Mater'* of Pergolesi, 
styled the Raffaele of music ; or the " Miserere" of Jomelli, with 
its strangely sweet and melancholy tones ? 

We know not but we might be justified in saying that beauty is 
the predominant feature in the religion of Italy ; not, however, " the 
beauty of holiness ;" would that it were! but external beauty, the 
beauty of form and semblance ; the symbol, it is true, of a higher 
and divine beauty, but often separated from it by a great gulf, 
like the body of the dead from the spirit which has taken its 
flight. So we find it enshrined in their temples and altars. 
These, indeed, are often adorned, or rather we ought to say, be- 
dizened, with tinsel and gewgaws, and, what is worse, with taw- 
dry images, mere idols of wood and stone. A rude, barbaric 
splendor, worthy only of the dark ages, often takes the place of a 
true and simple beauty. ISTay more, both in form and arrangement, 
their churches, and especially their altars, are more alUed to the 
genius of heathenism than of Christianity. After all, the most of 
their ecclesiastical edifices possess a wonderful charm, from their 
fine proportions and antique air. The Cathedral, in Milan, has 
beefi styled an Epic in stone. " It appears," says one, '' like a 
petrified oriental dream." St. Peter's, at Rome, is the very 
perfection of beauty and grandeur. ■ The majestic dome, and the 
serene festal air of the interior, strike the most casual observer. 
Santa Maria Novella, and the ancient church of Santa Croce, 
in Florence, are distinguished by a simple and venerable beauty. 
But some of the old churches in the country, amid umbrageous 
trees and clustering vines, are yet more beautiful even than these^ 
blending as they do with the glories of nature, and often hiding 
a deeper and more heartfelt worship. 

If you say that the spirit of the Papal religion is alien from the 
simple and spiritual faith of the Son of God ; that these beautiful 



INTRODUCTORY. 27 



forms and that splendid ritual are but the adornment of the dead ; 
be it so ; but allow this, at least, that beauty is there, in its ex- 
ternal form, and, under happier circumstances, might become the 
type of that awful and celestial beauty which pertains to the 
pure in heart, and dwells, in its perfection, only in the mind of 
God. Nor let us forget, that even amid the corruptions of Rome, 
some of the grand and all-transforming elements of Christianity 
are constantly recognized. The stars, indeed, are mingled with 
clouds and gloom, but they are stars nevertheless, and shine with 
benignant radiance, even upon Italian minds. The being and 
perfection of God, as the Creator and Judge, the universal Father 
and friend of all intelligent beings ; the divinity and incarnation 
of Jesus Christ ; the possibility of union and fellowship with God ; 
the eternity of virtue ; the resurrection of the dead and the life 
everlasting, are truths, which however dimmed by error and pre- 
judice, exert upon them a life-giving influence. Who can tell 
but all of beautiful and good, which we find in their character and 
productions, their painting and sculpture, their architecture and 
music, is to be traced to the silent and invisible influence of these 
divine principles ? At all events we hold it possible to marry 
the beauty of the universe to the beauty of God ; to unite, by 
holy and indissoluble ties, the splendors of art to the glories of 
purity and devotion. Are they not thus virtually blended in the 
mind of God ; and will not the final " reconcilement of all things" 
mingle forever the beauties of external nature with the higher 
beauties of truth and love ? It is the misfortune of this world, 
thus far, that things in themselves good and desirable are found 
divorced ; so that the spirit of evil has been permitted to appro- 
priate, as its own, some of the most perfect creations of genius 
and art. But this state of things must gradually pass away, is 
passing away now; so that spirituahsm, hitherto bald and re- 



28 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



pulsive, will yet clothe itself in tlie warm and beautiful garments 
of unperverted nature. 

It lias been remarked, indeed, that the age of great architectu- 
ral splendor and artistic beauty in churches, and in the commu- 
nity generally, is the age also of decline in spiritual worship. 
Possibly this may be the case, especially when these are accom- 
panied with -a worldly spirit, and a mere love of tinsel and show ; 
but architectural beauty ~ and aesthetic perfection are not the 
cause of such decline. Neither can it be shown to be their natu- 
ral or proper result. Reverence for the form presupposes some 
reverence for the spirit. We linger over the dead long after the 
soul has departed. We deck with flowers their cold and silent 
tombs. The love of the form then is better than nothing. It may 
precede and even excite the love of the spirit ; and we can easily 
Imagine a time when the genius of true reUgion will animate all 
the creations of science and art. There is no tendency to the 
production of idolatry in the dim aisles of the wide old woods, in 
Ihe ^'o'erarching dome" of the starry sky, in the music of winds 
and waves, or in the deep and awful stillness of the night, the 
most solemn and magnificent of all temples ; yet these are the 
very things which the old idolaters worshipped, ^nd which long 
served to perpetuate their paganism. It was in those awful 
shrines, and in the presence of those sublime realities, that they 
bowed the knee and offered sacrifices of blood ! But the idolatry 
was in the heart, not in the universe ; or that universe would 
- long ago have been swept away, or covered with a pall by the 
hand of the Almighty. But there, as of old, are the everlasting 
hills, the starry vault, the cadence of wind and wave, the deep 
roll of the thunder, and the organ blast of the tempest, calling 
men to reverence and worship. And if these have no tendency 
to idolatry, why should august and venerable forms, thrilling mu- 
sic, beautiful sculpture and painting, when they proceed from 



mTRODUCTORY. 29 



tlie hand or heart of man, have any tendency to idolatry ? A 
spiritual worship is not a naked abstraction ; neither is it neces- 
sarily meagre and bald in its outward manifestations. It springs 
from a pure and earnest hearty a heart that sees God, loves God, 
and rejoices in God. But it demands adequate expression and 
embodiment,, and grows into a form resplendent and graceful. 
It is a soul, but a soul with a body resembling its own lofty na- 
ture. It is a root, but not a dull and sightless one ; having a 
vital force, it sends forth a stem with green leaves and golden 
fruit. It is local, yet fills the universe with its fragrance. Hence 
it easily enshrines itself in old and majestic temples, and from 
age to age attracts, as by a spiritual affinity, all forms of beauty 
and grandeur. Its final perfection is svmbolized, in the Holy 
Scriptures, by the harmonies and splendors of the JN'ew Jerusa- 
lem, *' coming down out of heaven as a bride adorned for her 
husband." 

But we did not intend to write a disquisition upon Italy, or 
tipon beauty, either as a symbol or an element of holiness. We 
propose rather to take our readers along with us in a visit to that 
interesting country, wander with them through some of her most 
attractive scenes, mingle with her people, and linger occasionally 
to gaze upon her haunts of genius or devotion, conversing mean- 
while, as the mood may seize us, respecting her peculiar traits, 
her singular fortunes, her distinguished characters, and probable 
destiny. By this means we may succeed in forming some concep- 
tion of her peculiar genius, and in filling our minds not only with 
her serene beauty, but with her stirring memories and lofty hopes. 
We trust, of course, to preserve some method in our wanderings 
and speculations ; but if we seem occasionally to be somewhat 
desultory, and even capricious, let it be forgiven, in the hope, 
that the whole, when completed, may contribute to a just and 
harmonious, even if limited conception of the Genius of Italy. 



CHAPTER II. 

First view of Italy — Descent of the Alps — Lago Maggiore— Borromean 
Isles — Cardinal Borromeo— The Church in Locarno — Its persecutions 
and trials — Final banishment — Persecution and religious Liberty in Italy 
— ^Arona — Evening scene on the Lake — Ippolito Pindemonte — His verses 
on Night. 

We are descending the Alps on the sunny side, with the 
rush of a thousand streams around us ; and yonder is Italy, 
bathed in sunlight. A warm southern breeze, cooled by the 
mountain air, plays around our brow, and a secret exhilaration 
gladdens our hearts, derived doubtless from the magnificent 
landscape suddenly bursting upon our sight, and the vast expanse 
of blue sky, which, 

" With such ravishing light, 
And mantling splendors in transparent air," 

bends over Italy with loving embrace. It has been said, that 
intense light will beautify the most forbidding scene. No won- 
der then that these mountain sides, with their garniture of trees 
and streams, and that rich and diversified landscape beneath, 
glow with a beauty which seems less of earth than of heaven. 
The whole opens before us like a vast temple, illumined by a 
dome of light, in which our morning orisons might ascend to the 
great Source of life and joy. What a flood of thrilling associa- 
tions rushes upon us at the first glance of Italy, so beautiful in 



ENTRANCE INTO ITALY. 31 



herself, and so rich in historic, classic and Christian recollec- 
tions ! 

Passing rapidly down the winding descent, we plunge amid the 
cool shadows of umbrageous trees, growing with great luxuriance 
upon the slopes of the mountains, coming now and then to aa 
open space, or passing over some brawling torrent, and finally 
arriving at a point where the ground becomes nearly level, and 
one or two streams, fed from cool springs in the regions above, 
linger as it were to rest themselves, amid the green verdure 
which adorns their banks. The descent again commences, but 
becomes less and less as we advance, until it is almost impercepti- 
ble. Before us the clear, green, or blue waters of the Lago Mag- 
giore, green or blue, like the eyes of Dante's Beatrice, according 
to the aspect in which they are seen, gleam through the thick 
masses of foliage which shelter its upper extremity. This is one 
of the largest and most beautiful lakes in Italy ; and, on a clear 
summer's day, looks like a Hquid heaven in the bosom of the 
green old woods. We skirt along its margin, everywhere fringed 
with trees and shrubbery, intermingled here and there with 
picturesque crags, pretty cottages, gray towers, villages and 
churches. At last we pass the Borromean Isles, as they are 
called, of which Isola Bella and Isola Madre are the most famous, 
ornamented with superb palaces, and lined with trees, shrubbery, 
and statues, somewhat artificial in their appearance, but easily 
blending with the landscape and adding to its beauty. Deep 
and placid, the water mirrors, with uncommon distinctness, rock, 
tree and palace, which take a softened hue from the reflected 
light. On one side of the lake, near Arona, stands the colossal 
stattie of Cardinal Borromeo, one of the patron saints of Lom- 
bardy, and in his da}^ much celebrated for his piety and virtue. 
How gratifying to a liberal mind to discover, among the devotees 
of what may be deemed a false and superstitious faith, some 



32 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



pure spirits, like Fenelon and Pascal, Carlo Borromeo^' and Silvio 
Pellico ; nay, more, to conclude that there must be many such, 
many of whom the world has never heard, and who, amid the 
dense fog of superstition, are pursuing their way to glory. 

But while conceding this, we must not shut our eyes to the 
errors and sins even of those we love, and especially to the false 
principles and corrupt tendencies of a degenerate church. This 
very lake, so still and beautiful, reminds us of an act of bigotry and 
cruelty, on a small scale, almost equal to that of St. Bartholomew 
on a larger. At the upper end of the lake, where it is almost 
hid away among the mountain shadows, once stood the peaceful 
city of Locarno. The light of the Gospel, which had arisen, 
like a new sun, upon Germany and Switzerland, traversed the 
Alps, and illumined, with a brief but heavenly lustre, the plains 
of Italy. It penetrated especially the solitudes of the Tyrol, 
and lingered around the shores of Lago Maggiore. Locarno 
received the truth, and a church was formed of pure and self- 
denying men. Beccaria, 'Uheir apostle," as he is called, had 
derived his own Protestantism direct from the Holy Scriptures, 
and led a life of great purity and zeal. In consequence of this, 
he became an object of great and painful anxiety to the Pope ; 
and of hostility, aggravated by political feelings, to the Popish 
part of the Swiss Cantons, to whose confederation, though in a 
somewhat subordinate capacity, Locarno was attached. Becca- 

* There is one dark spot in the Ufe of Cardinal Borromeo. Devoted to 
the exclusive interests of the Papal Church, he co-operated with the Pope 
in his attempt to reduce the Italian Protestants of the Grisons to tlie 
autliority of the Holy See. When ordinary means failed, recourse was had 
to violence. Cardinal Borromeo was deeply involved in the scheme which 
issued in the indiscriminate and barbarous slaughter of the Protestants of 
the Valteline, and the temporary subjugation of the country of the Grisons, 
by the armies of Spain and Austria. 



CHURCH ir^ LOCARNO. 33 



ria was driven into exile ; while another zealous teacher, a distin- 
guished physician, owed his escape from the Inquisition — which, 
had then become formidable — only to his rare professional skill. 
Every means that zeal 'and bigotry could invent^ to compel the 
Locarnese to conform to the rites of the Papal Church, proved 
abortive. Their attachment to the pure faith which had dawned 
upon them, only increased by opposition. 

At last a fatal manoeuvre was resorted to by the enemies of this 
primitive Church. A native of the Catholic Canton of Uri, who 
happened to be town-clerk of Locarno, forged a deed, purporting 
to be an act of solemn adhesion to the Catholic faith, signed by 
the senators, citizens, and inhabitants of the town. This docu- 
ment was retained in private, for some years, in order to render 
more difficult the detection of the forgery, and then laid, as gen- 
uine, before the seven Catholic Cantons. Delighted with any 
pretext for their bigoted interference, they immediately passed a 
decree, to enforce, in all its rigor, the provisions of this nefarious 
bond. Accordingly, all Locarnese were enjoined immediate con- 
fession and penance. Those who declined the mass on their 
death-bed, were to be denied the rites of burial. In vain the 
terrified Locarnese protested against the flagitious bond, which 
came upon them like an avalanche. In vain they implored the 
interference of the Protestant Cantons, whose good intentions 
were defeated by cruel reports, accusing the Locarnese of having 
departed from the doctrines of the Reformation. In vain they 
published their confession of faith, and in vain was the false bond 
set aside by two successive edicts, Riverda, Bishop of Terracina, 
was sent, by the Pope, into Switzerland to urge its enforcement. 
The Cathohc Cantons, at that time the majority, prevailed, and it 
was decreed that the inhabitants of Locarno should either em- 
brace the Catholic faith, or leave their native country, taking with 
them their families and property. The execution of this barbar- 
^ 2* 



34 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



ous decree was entrusted to the representatives of the seven 
CathoUc Cantons, provided the four Protestant ones refused to 
share its iniquity. One of the latter, Zurich, recorded on the 
spot its protest against the measure. But it was either too weak 
or unwilling to proceed to extremities to prevent its execution. 

It was winter. The cold winds were howling among the rocks, 
and the snow-wreaths filled up the valleys. The Locarnese were 
summoned to comply with the decision of their superiors; a 
number, from weakness or fear, recanted ; but two hundred heads 
of families were seen, the men abreast, followed by their wives 
and children, some of them infants in the arm, walking to the 
City Hall, meekly but boldly to confront their enemies in full 
council. When the question was put, whether, at the bidding of 
foreign tyrants, they were prepared to renounce their faith, they 
with one voice replied, '' We will live in it, we will die in it !" 
while the exclamations, '* It is the only true faith ! it is the only 
saving faith !'' continued, for some time, to resound from various 
parts of the assembly, ''like the murmurs," to quote the lan- 
guage of the accurate and eloquent McCrie, author of the Annals 
of the Reformation in Italy, " which succeed the principal peal 
in a thunder-storm." 

Their calm and solemn appeals to Scripture as the foundation 
of their belief, and to the compassion of the audience towards 
helpless women and children, proved ineffectual with judges ' 
stern and cruel as the snow-clad Alps to which they consigned 
these unoffending pilgrims. Their petitions to be spared a jour- 
ney in winter were disregarded ; and it was only by suffering 
persecution that they succeeded in securing a brief delay. 

At this juncture, Riverda, the Papal nuncio, arrived at Lo- 
carno to complete the measure of injustice. Though failing in 
his endeavor to secure the confiscation of their property, or the 
detention of their children, he obtained full power to embitter the 



CHURCH IN LOCARNO. 35 



sojourn of tlye exiles by attempts at conversion. These, however, 
proved unavaiUng. Among others, several ladies were subjected 
to severe trial, one of whom, the heroic Barbara di Montalto, was 
about to be thrown into prison for what her persecutors called 
''blasphemy against the mass." Her husband's house on the 
margin of the lake, constructed as a place of defense in the wars 
of the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, had a secret door of immense 
strength opening on the water, where a boat was always kept, to 
carry off the inmates in case of sudden alarm. In consequence 
of a terrifying dream, relating to himself, her husband caused the 
servants to leave the door open before night. Early next morn- 
ing the officers of justice burst into the lady's apartment, while 
she was dressing, with a warrant for her apprehension. With 
admirable presence of mind, she begged permission to retire to 
complete her dress ; and, availing herself of the secret door, leaped 
into the boat, and was rowed instantly beyond the reach of her 
enemies. The property however of her husband, was confiscated ; 
and a poor tradesman was tortured, and subsequently executed, 
for expressions derogatory to the Virgin Mary. 

On the third of March, 1555, the harassed exiles were per- 
mitted to depart from their home, now no longer a home to them. 
And yet how many bitter tears they must have shed in tearing 
themselves away from scenes so beautiful in themselves, and so 
hallowed by early associations. Their trials from the inclemency 
of the weather, were aggravated by an edict forbidding all Milan- 
ese subjects -to entertain them on pain of death, and imposing a 
fine upon any who should even presume to converse with them. 
Their nearest and best route being thus closed, they sailed to the 
northern extremity of the lake, and endeavored to find some place 
of shelter among the Grisons. Reaching Rogeretto, a small town 
at the foot of the Alps, they found the way barred against them 
by huge masses of ice and snow; on which account they were 



86 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



compelled to remain there, with great inconvenience and suffer- 
ing, for two months. But Spring opened a passage for them to 
their Protestant brethren among the Grisons, where one half of 
their number found a permanent home. The remainder, amount* 
ing to a hundred and fourteen, continued their weary journey, 
and finally rested at the city of Zurich, capital of the Canton of 
Berne, where many of their descendants, at this day, are among 
the most distinguisi i^d families of that beautiful city. 

Locarno, deprived of her best inhabitants, began to languish. 
Tempest laid waste the lands, and pestilence the city. Intestine 
broils aggravated these evils, and finally drew upon it the curse 
of a large foreign garrison. It is now but an obscure town, which 
will be known to the world only in connection with the heroic 
faith of her persecuted children. 

Such atrocities are sometimes traceable to the spirit of cruelty, 
but they are the result mainly of false principles. Protestants 
as well as Catholics have been guilty of them, but Protestantism 
does not justify such enormities. Nay, it earnestly protests 
against them, as alien from its spirit and aim. Freedom is the 
basis of all true faith, and any system of religion which cannot 
sustain itself without physical force, is false and dangerous. How 
strange that rational, and even religious men will be guilty of all 
oppression and cruelty, for the sake of pleasing God and blessing 
the world ! In this respect, the greatest curse of Italy has been her 
intense bigotry. TI:3 Papal faith has felt itself insecure without 
the use of the scaffold, the bayonet and the dungeon. Religious 
freedom, freedom of thought on the sublimest of all subjects, the 
grandest of all interests, has never been permitted there. The 
Reformation in Italy was quenched in blood.* 

* See "Annals of the Reformation in Italy," by Dr. McCrie, and "Pro- 
testantism in Italy," by Dr. Baird. 



ARONA. 37 



But a new era, Tve trust, is dawning upon Italy. Soul freedom— 
tlie highest and best of all, in fact the only true freedom — begins to 
be understood even in Rome. Myriad hearts, from the snow-clad 
Alps to the golden Calabria, long for its attainment. God grant 
that all Italy may yet add to her other distinctions, that of 
religious liberty. 

We have arrived at Arona, in the Sardinian States, a consider- 
able village at the southern extremity of the lake, where it 
stretches into a wide and magnificent expanse of water, the upper 
portions being narrow and secluded. After refreshing ourselves 
at the principal hotel, we saunter through the place, which is 
filled by a poor and cheerful population. As it is evening, the 
majority of the inhabitants are enjoying themselves in the open 
air ; some seated upon benches smoking their pipes, others loung- 
ing under the shadow of the trees, or chatting with their friends, 
others sauntering in the principal square ; and others listening to 
the music of a couple of strolHng singers, one of whom plays the 
harp with tolerable grace, and the other a tambourine as an 
accompaniment. Two or three cafh are filled with eager politi- 
cal talkers. Under the shadow of the trees there, a group are 
gathered, discussing with earnest look and gesture a protocol of 
Charles Albert, King of Sardinia, who has given a pretty liberal 
constitution to his people, the necessity of which no one acquaint- 
ed with the state of Sardinia will question. This monarch sits 
uneasy upon his throne. He has more ambition than power, 
more cunning than virtue. Should he maintain his position as a 
prince, he may deem himself extremely fortunate. As to his 
being the saviour of Italy it is pure *' humbug." 

But let us go toward the brink of the lake. The last rays of 
sunset are tinging, with supernal glories, the tops of the trees, 
some of which run down into the water, and cast long shadows 
in its pellucid depths. A few light clouds are hanging on the 



38 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



horizon, giving back the amber radiance of departing day, and 
shading " the deep serene'' which reposes far above, reminding 
as of those hnes by James Montgomery, in which he so strikingly 
diiscribes the beauty of a dead girl. 

" And clustering round her brow serene 
Her golden tresses lay, 
As .sunburnt clouds on summer lake 
Aj-e hung at close of day;" 

White skiffs are gliding here and there, like shadowy spirits, 
and far off in the distance a small steamer is ploughing the placid 
waves. Masses of shadow are beginning to fall upon the other 
side of the lake, and deepening in the low grounds to our right. 
A lute-like sound now and then breaks upon the ear, apparently 
from one of the skiffs. Now it swells and vibrates over the 
waters, with a sweet ringing tone, and then again dies away. All 
is hushed except the ripple of the waves upon the pebbly shore, 
or the plash of a distant oar. It is as if the spirit of heaven had 
cast its shadow upon the earth. 

" It is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; 
The holy ti 1 1 1 e is quiet as a nun 
Breathless y^ i th adoration ; the broad sun 
Is sinking down in its tranquility ; 
Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, 
And doth with his eternal motion make 
A sound like thunder — everlastingly." 

Yes, silence in such a scene becomes vocal. The heart listens 
while God himself speaks. His infinite voice resounds within the 
chambers of the soul, like the echo of distant thunder. 

Still as it is here, so still as to seem instinct with divinity, what 
is Italy, in her great centres, doing at the present moment ? Who 



PINDEMONTE. 39 



can tell ? One thing however is certain, her restless spirit is 
awake, and panting for freedom. Already has the struggle com- 
menced ; and the issues cannot fail to be glorious — if not now, at 
least hereafter. 

But the shadows are deepening around us, and night settles 
upon hill and vale ; one after another the stars look out from the 
sky and mirror themselves, like thoughts in the heart of a good 
man, in the broad bosom of the lake. The light of the moon is 
gilding the towers of the old *' Collegiate Church,'* for Arona 
boasts such an edifice, and burning with *' an unconsuming fire" 
in '* the leafy umbrage" of the tall trees. Slowly we retrace our 
steps to our temporary home for the night, drinking the beauty 
of the scene, and conning, as we go, the rich verses of Ippo- 
llto Pindemonte, the friend of Alfieri and Foscolo, and one of the 
most gifted and elegant of the modern Italian poets.* 



" Night dew-lipped comes, and every gleaming star 
Its silent place assigns in yonder sky ; 

The moon walks forth, and fields and groves afar, 
Touched by her light, in silver beauty lie 

In solemn peace, that no sound comes to mar ; 
Hamlets and peopled cities slumber nigh : 

While on this rock, in meditative mien, 

Lord of the unconscious world I sit unseen. 



* Ippolito Pindemonte was descended from a noble family in Verona. 
He was born there in 1783, and died in the same place in 1828. Retrans- 
lated Racine's Berenice," and was the author of " Armenio," a tragedy, " Poesi 
Campestri," and many fugitive pieces. He spent a considerable portion ot 
his life in Venice, travelled extensively, made himself familiar with English 
literature, and devoted his later years exclusively to literature. His stjle 
is rich and harmonious. His lyrics are especially admired. They are dis- 
tinguished, however, more for beauty than originality and strength. 



40 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



" How deep the quiet of this penf^ive hour ! 

Nature bids labor cease — and all obey. 
How sweet this stillness in its magic power, 

O'er hearts that know her voice, and own her sway 1 
Stillness unbroken, save when, from the flower, 

The i^hirring locust takes her upward way ; 
And murmuring o'er the verdant turf is heard 
The passing brook — or leaf by breezes stirred. 

" Borne on the pinions of night's freshening air. 
Unfettered thoughts with calm reflection come : 

And fancy's train that shuns the daylight's glare 

To wake when midnight shrouds the heavens in gloom j 

New tranquil joys, and hopes untouched by care. 
Within my bosom throng to seek a home ; 

Where far around the brooding darkness spreads. 

And o'er the soiJ. its pleasing sadness sheds."*^ 

* It may be proper to say here, once for all, that we shall quote freely 
from the Italian poets, not only to illustrate the text, but to furnish speci- 
mens of the " Genius of Italy." This, we think, will furnish a sufficient 
apology for the length of some of the quotations. As we write for Eng- 
lish readers, we shall make our quotations from such English versions as 
may be within our reach. 



CHAPTER III. 



Lombardy — Aspect of the Country — Condition of the Inhabitants — Brief 
Sketch of the History of Lombardy — Milan — Description of the City — 
The Cathedral — View from the Summit — Sunset on the Alps — Interior 
of the Cathedral. 



Early next morning we are off in the direction of Milan, and 
soon find ourselves traversing the rich plains of Lombardy, so 
long under the dominion of Austria, and the scene of so many 
struggles. On every side are innumerable farms and villages, oc- 
cupied by a poor but industrious peasantry. The lands are 
divided and subdivided to an astonishing extent, and as the peas- 
antry who work them are not the proprietors and have large 
taxes to pay to government, while one-half the produce of their 
little farms goes to their owners, few or none of them acquire 
property. They merely live and transmit from father to son 
their scanty heritage of labor. Let it not, however, be supposed 
that they are an unhappy race. Doubtless they long for some- 
thing better, and most of them, with the true Italian spirit, yearn 
for freedom and national independence, but they toil on with pa- 
tience and cheerfulness. Their religion would seem to be of a 
darker and severer character than that of southern Italy. Every- 
where you see hideous crucifixes, with skeleton Christs. The 
churches have a sombre look, and their interior is often quite 
gloomy. The scenery is agreeable but monotonous, and the vil- 
lages through which we are passing have a poor and squalid look« 



42 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



The proprietors and gentry live in the large cities, while the 
country is left to the peasantry, priests and monks. 

The Lombardo-Yenetian kingdom, as it is called, has been for 
years one of the most valuable possessions of Austria, and will 
never be willingly abandoned by that powerful and grasping Em- 
pire. It extends from the Alpine heights, including Carinthia, 
Tyrol and the Grisons, to the banks of the Po ; and thus em- 
braces the whole expanse of northern Italy, except the portions 
which belong to Sardinia, and one or two of the smaller duchies 
on the northwest, from the shores of the Adriatic on the one side 
towards those of the Mediterranean on the other. It is the best 
watered, and, in agriculture, the richest portion of Italy. This, in 
connection with various alliances, has enabled Austria, till within 
a very recent period, to control the whole Italian peninsula. A 
new and formidable power has arisen in opposition to Austrian 
rule, composed of Sardinia, Tuscany, and the Roman States. 
Pope Pius the Ninth, the King of Sardinia, and the Grand Duke 
of Tuscany, with their people, are pledged to the doctrines of 
national independence, political amelioration and social progress.* 
But whether they will hold together, and accomplish their de- 
signs, is yet to be seen. They enjoy the sympathies of the entire 
Italian race, one of whose distinctive traits is a love of country, 
and a detestation of foreign rule. This feeling glows with intense 
energy in their literature, and doubtless forms the polar star in 
their history. It will, therefore, surmount all obstacles, and, 

* Already the Pope gives unequivocal signs of weakness and irresolu- 
tion. The fact is, his position is a peculiar and difficult ^one. No man can 
serve two masters ; and it will speedily be seen that the freedom of the 
nineteenth century cannot be promoted without endangering the supremacy 
of the Papal See. — The above, written some time ago, has been strikingly 
verified. And now Pope Pius fulminates anathemas aganst the revolution- 
ists of Rome. 



LOMBARDY. 43 



though frequently checked and weakened, will yet win its way 
to permanent victory. 

On the fall of the Roman Empire, Lombard y was overrun and 
settled by the rough but vigorous Goths. Under Odoacer and 
Theodoric the Ostrogoth, Ravenna was established as the capital 
of their half-barbarous empire. Overthrown by Belisarius and 
the Greek Eunuch, Narses, they gave place to the Lombards, a 
new horde of barbarians who made Pavia the seat of their do- 
minion, which extended on every side, and finally reached the 
gates of Iniperial Rome. Two hundred years the Lombard power 
flourished under twenty successive sovereigns, who displayed all 
the energy and splendor of a semi-barbarous but powerful rule. 
In the middle of the eighth century it received its first shock 
from Pepin of France, and was soon after overturned by the 
power of Charlemagne. 

But the iron crown of Lombardy fell from the French kings in 
the reign of the feeble Charles le Gros. Italy, left to herself, 
long continued a prey to internal dissensions. But the necessity 
of defending her possessions against the fierce Hungarians of the 
north and the piratical Saracens of the south, and the erection of 
forts and towers for the defense of the towns, taught the cities to 
estimate their natural strength, and the possibility of attaining 
freedom and independence. The large concessions wrung from 
the rival competitors for the empire, Berenger, Duke of Friuh, 
and Guido, Duke of Spoleto, greatly aided the cause of liberty. 
The descendants of Berenger being overthrown by Otho the 
Great, of Germany, and the towns being encouraged to throw oflf 
their allegiance to their respective Counts, gave an additional im- 
pulse to the movement, and led to the formation of municipal 
institutions all over Italy. These, however, did not yet trench 
upon the rights of the Emperor ; and the imperial authority was 
firmly maintained in the tenth century by the Othos of that era. 



44 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



But this authority waned, and during the first half of the eleventh 
century it scarcely existed at all. The free cities prospered 
abundantly, and Milan rose in population and wealth. 

A cruel interruption of this prosperity was suffered under the 
fierce and imperious Frederick Barbarossa, who attacked the city 
of Milan, and after a long and terrible struggle, razed it to its 
foundations. But the disasters which befel this despot, restored 
independence and freedom to the different repubhcs. 
. In the thirteenth century various petty chiefs, who, under the 
name of dukes, princes, and so forth, subsequently played such 
an important part in the affairs of Italy, began to make their 
appearance in the different republics. In difficult and dangerous 
crises, they were called to act as governors or protectors of the 
several towns ; but taking advantage of their opportunities, they 
aggrandized their own families, and • ended by usurping the gov- 
ernment and extinguishing the liberties of the republics. 

In this manner the family Delia Torre took possession of the 
government of Milan, and diminished, if not altogether extinguish- 
ed, her early freedom. Some of the governors, it is true, were 
men of superior military talents, and of great legislative as well 
as executive sagacity, and the city long continued to reap the 
benefit of her free institutions, being blessed with a numerous 
population, great commercial and mechanical prosperity, and 
much refinement in arts and literature. 

Milan came into the possession of Charles the Fifth, whose 
Spanish descendants, bigoted and cruel, long tyrannized over her, 
either in person or by their overbearing vicegerents. After the 
war of the Spanish succession, the duchies of Milan and Mantua 
were assigned to Austria. Wrested from her hands for a brief 
period by Napoleon, who rushed from the Alps like an eagle 
upon his prey, and displayed all the resources of his transcend- 
ent military genius, in the rapid subjugation of Italy, Milan revert- 



MILAN. 46 



ed to the dominion of lier old masters, at the treaty of Vienna 
in 1815. United with Venice, it formed the Lombardo- Vene- 
tian kingdom, and has been governed by Austria, with a strong 
and steady hand. It is true, the resources of the country have 
been well developed, and even elementary instruction provided for 
every commtine ; but the general policy has been despotic and 
cruel. The inhabitants intensely hate their oppressors, and must 
have independence. And no wonder, for, under Austrian rule, 
every Italian is excluded from office, the press is muzzled, and 
enormous sums levied from the inhabitants in the shape of taxes. 
A free word, or a free act, has entailed instant imprisonment and 
death. The paternal government is well supplied with dungeons 
and bayonets, and to maintain its rule will not hesitate to deluge 
the whole land in blood. 

We have only to add, (after a lapse of six months,) that it has 
done so. Suddenly expelled from Milan, which prematurely sang 
paeans over its recovered liberty, the Austrians have returned at 
the point of the bayonet, and, at the moment we write, are in 
quiet possession of the city. Once more freedom lies bleeding in 
the streets. 

But yonder is Milan, '' which stands," says Von Raumur, " in 
a sea of green trees, as Venice in a sea of green waters." It con- 
tains something more than a hundred and fifty thousand inhabit- 
ants, and boasts the possession of an extensive commerce, splendid 
public edifices, and an active, enterprising population. In form it 
is nearly circular, lying in a vast plain, and surrounded by a slight 
bastioned wall and broad ramparts adorned with trees. We pass 
under its lofty arches, guarded by Austrian bayonets, and take 
possession of apartments near the Duomo, the largest and most 
beautiful cathedral of northern Italy, and only inferior in size and 
splendor to St. Peter's in Rome. 

Sauntering around the city, we visit the old church of St. 



46 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Ambrose, where repose the bones of that devout and simple- 
hearted bishop, an object of adoration to the faithful ; and in 
whose crypts are to be seen some singular relics, among which 
an immense brazen serpent is conspicuous, claimed to be nothing 
less than *' the serpent in the wilderness !" This will do very well 
to put alongside of '' the top of the well of Samaria," " the lance 
that pierced our Saviour's side,'' and *' the veil of Veronica," ex- 
hibited in Rome itself ! The defaced painting of Leonardo da 
Yinci also attracts our attention, but it is interesting only as a 
memorial of what it once was, and of the transcendent genius 
who painted it ; for it is much injured by time, and has lost near- 
ly all its distinctive traits. The Ambrosian library and the pub- 
lic museum, in which are some fine paintings of the old masters, 
are not neglected ; but of these we say nothing. For, to tell the 
honest truth, Milan is interesting to us chiefly on account of its 
great men, its ancient memories, its generous aspirations, and 
noble struggles for freedom. Here Beccaria, Monti, and Foscolo 
wrote and sang. Here especially, Silvio Pellico, Manzoni, Maron- 
celli and others were associated not only in friendship, but in the 
sacred cause of liberty and progress ; and from this place some of 
them were driven forth to exile and imprisonment. 

But we must indulge ourselves with one sight — the view from 
the summit of the Cathedral. Ascending by long winding stairs, 
we find ourselves far above the dust and din of the hot and busy 
city, amid a forest of pinnacles with sculptured saints and angels, 
glittering like frostwork in the light of the setting sun — 

" An aerial host 
Of figures, human and divine, 
White as the snows of Apennine 
Indurated by frost." 

It is as if a mountain of marble had become vital, and flowered 
into that '* starry zone." But an object of vaster grandeur and 



PELLICO. 4T 



more tlirilling beauty instantly attracts our attention. Yonder, 
at the distance ^of a hundred miles or more, but clearly marked 
against the sky, are the lofty ranges of the Alps, bathed in mel- 
low light. How gloriously they lift their calm summits into the 
heavens, as if they formed a pathway to the throne of God, on 
which the angels, as in Jacob's dream, might be seen '' ascending 
and descending." The colors change and deepen, now taking a 
soft, rosy tint, now a rich crimson, and then a brilliant purple. 
The plains beneath are putting on the '' sober livery" of evening, 
the base of the mountains is itself covered with shadows ; but the 
light, as if loth to depart, lingers upon their summits, and grows 
more and more intense, among the white glacier peaks. Vast and 
shadowy, these everlasting mountains seem invested with an awful 
but delightful serenity, reminding us of the ''peace of God which 
passeth all understanding" — the profound and eternal repose of the 
spirits of just men made perfect. Gazing on them, at this hushed 
hour, 

" We receive into our soul 
A something that informs us 'tis an hour 
Whence we may date henceforward and forever." 

It was some such sight which originated that fine sonnet of Words- 
worth, in which moral and poetical beauty are equally blended. 

" Glory to God ! and to the power that came 

In filial duty, clothed with love divine ; 

That made his human tabernacle shine, 
Like ocean burning with purpureal flame ; 
Or like the Alpine mount, that takes its name 

From roseate hues, far kenn'd at morn and even, 

In times of peace, or when the storm is driven 
Along the nether regions' rugged frame ! 

Earth prompts — Heaven urges ; let us seek the light 
Studious of that pure intercourse begun, 



48 GENIUS OF ITALY 



When first our infant brows their lustre won ; 

So like the mountains may we grow more bright, 
From unimpeded commerce with the sun 

At the approach of all-involving night !" 

We have just time to take a glance at the dim aisles of the 
Cathedral. Yespers, attended by a few solitary females, are al- 
ready begun, and a flickering light is burning in a subterranean 
chapel, immediately under the choir, where, in a silver coffin, 
adorned with gems and gold, repose the remains of Cardinal Bor- 
romeo, an object of more apparent veneration to devout Cath- 
ohcs than even the Cross itself. Here, morning, noon and night, 
you mny see some poor devotee kneeling, in prostrate reverence, 
and imploring the intercession of the saint. Behind the grand 
altar is a statue of St. Bartholomew flayed, with his skin hanging 
behind his back, a truthful but rather repulsive representation. 
The artist, who was vain of his work, has inscribed it thus : *' Non 
me Praxiteles, sed Marcus Arates fecit,'' a piece of information 
quite unnecessary ! St. Bartholomew does not attract so many 
devotees as St. Borromeo ; but whether this is to be referred to 
taste or devotion it is impossible to say. But we find little to 
delay us here ; for although there is something subduing in the 
vast proportions, awful stillness, and dim light of these large ca- 
thedrals, we feel it less, at this moment, from the influence of 
the resplendent scene which we have just left. How little are 
all the works of man in comparison with the everlasting moun- 
tains, or the azure canopy of heaven. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Silvio Pellico — Sketch of his Life — Distinguished writers in Milan — Estab- 
lishment of " the Conciliator" — Its suppression — Imprisonment of Silvio 
Pellico, Maroncelli and others — The " Mie Prigioni" (My Prisons) of 
Silvio— Extracts — Canzone written in Prison. 

Though not bora here, Milan was the chosen home of Silvio 
Pellico ; and his name therefore has become associated with the 
history of the place. The story of his wrongs has become known 
throughout Europe, and excited the most thrilling interest in all 
generous hearts. He was born at Saluzzo in Piedmont, a prov- 
ince of Sardinia, in the year 1789, at which time his father, a 
highly respectable and intelligent man, held an office under gov- 
ernment. The latter was subsequently promoted to a seat in the 
war department at Turin, to which place he removed his family. 
Silvio was then six years of age, and had given tokens of his sen- 
sitive and poetical temperament. He was a beautiful child, at 
once intelligent, affectionate and playful. A translation of Ossian 
fell into his hands, which he read with avidity and delight. The 
shadowy beauty and wild grandeur of that irregular, but striking 
production, seized upon his youthful imagination, and awakened 
within him all strange musings and poetical images. He was 
carefully trained in religion and morals, as well as in literature 
and science. His home was a happy one; for all its members 
were pious, affectionate, and cheerful. 

In his sixteenth year Silvio Pellico accompanied his twin sister, 
3 



60 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



to whom he was devotedly attached, to Lyons, in France, where 
he remained, until the poem of Ugo Foscolo, entitled " Dei Sepol- 
cri Carme," or, '' Poem of the Tombs," containing some affecting 
references .to the history and natm^al features of Italy, awakened 
such a passionate longing for his native land, that he immediately 
hastened to it, and rejoined his father, then settled in Milan, as 
a member of the government under Napoleon. His young and 
ardent spirit was fired with the visions of glory which then seemed 
to be dawning upon Italy, and he entered with spirit into all the 
plans suggested for its improvement. 

But Napoleon was overthrown, and Lombardy reverted to the 
Austrians. The father of Silvio Pellico being displaced, returned 
to Turin, accompanied by his family, except Silvio, who preferred 
to remain in Milan, in the hope that the Austrians would pursue a 
generous policy. 

With an ardent imagination and a love of letters, he had formed 
an intimate connection with Monti, Manzoni and others, who 
sighed over the subjugation of their country to a foreign yoke, 
and longed for its emancipation and improvement. His popular 
tragedy of "Francesca Rimini," founded upon a well-known 
passage in Dante, had given him a high reputation as a poet. He 
also formed an acquaintance with Byron, then resident for a 
* short time in Milan, whose poem of Manfred he translated into 
Italian. His great acquirements and agreeable manners made his 
society much sought after among the best circles of Milan. The 
Count Briche committed to his care one of his sons, and subse- 
quently he was introduced into the family of the illustrious and 
enlightened Count Porro Lambertenghi, as tutor to his sons. 
Here he found a congenial home," and contracted an intimate 
and enduring friendship with Count Porro and his family. 

It was at the suggestion of Silvio Pellico that the scholars and 
writers who were aiming at the regeneration of Italy established 



PELLICO. oi 



a journal called *' II Conciliatore" — The Conciliator, witli a view 
to the enlightenment of the people. Count Porro advanced the 
funds necessary for the purpose, and some of the most celebrated 
men in Italy became its contributors. Besides those " resident in 
Milan, were Grossi, the author of " Ildegonda ;"* Romagnosi of 
Venice, a distinguished Jurisconsult ; Melchior Gioga, a celebra- 
ted writer on political economy ; and Maroncelli, fated to be 
Pellico's future companion in prison, a man of fine genius and 
noble heart. It was in this journal that Pellico's "Eufemio di 
Messina" was first printed, as well as Manzoni's *' Conte di Car- 
magnuola," one of the best productions of modern Italy. Though 
pohtics were not discussed, the liberal tone of the journal became 
offensive to the Austrian government. Some of its articles on 
hterature were erased by the censors of the press, and the journal 
went forth with half its columns blank. On this account it was 
given up. 

The unfortunate revolution which took place in Naples, in 1820, 
excited the fdkrs of the Austrian government. A proclamation 
was issued, forbidding all persons in 'Hhe Lombardo-Venetian 
Kingdom," to belong to any secret society, on pain of death. 
The Carbonari, as the party were called who sought the indepen- 
dence of Italy, were everywhere arrested. Among others, the 
Counts Porro and Confalonieri excited the jealousy of the gov- 
ernment. They were men of enlarged minds, and were laying 
cut their vast property in the promotion of common-school 
instruction, science and the arts. They procured philosophical 
apparatus from foreign countries, and, in conjunction with Alex- 
ander Yisconti, constructed the first steamboat which made its 
appearance in Italy. But these were the very things which 

* G rossi has been styled " the poet of the heart." He has written some 
fine things. 



52 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



excited the hatred and suspicions of the Austrians. Of course, 
all connected with their families, and especially the contributors 
to " The Conciliator," were regarded with jealousy. Orders were 
issued for their arrest. Porro alone escaped by a timely flight 
into a foreign land. Confalonieri was torn from a sick bed and 
the arms of his wife and children. Pellico, Maroncelli, and the 
other contributors to the Conciliator, then resident in Milan, were 
all arrested and hurried to prison. Ugo Foscolo had long before 
this left Milan, and was residing in England. 

For ten long and weary years Silvio Pellico suffered imprison- 
ment, first in a convent at Milan, then in Venice, subjected to fre- 
quent and harassing investigations, with much mental and bodily 
suffering, and finally in the castle of Spielberg, in Moravia. The 
details were given to the world by himself, in that most charming 
of records, " Le Mie Prigioni,'' *' My Prisons," as he called 
the history of his trials. He was released in 1830 ; but up to 
that time he knew not whether he should perish in prison, or be 
led forth to execution. Some of his companions died. Maroncelli 
suffered severely from sickness, and was compelled to have one 
of his limbs amputated. This amiable and courageous man sub- 
sequently made his way to the United States, and died recently 
in the city of 'New York, old and blind, and, what is worse, 
deprived of his reason, but with the love and homage of all who 
knew him. Pellico returned to Turin, where he yet lives, in the 
bosom of his family and friends, enjoying the affectionate respect 
of his countrymen, and spending his time in pious offices and 
literary labors. His works are numerous, and all of them indicate 
genius, good sense and piety. The "Mie Prigione" has the 
charm of simplicity, naturalness and vivacity, and reminds us of 
such works as Robinson Crusoe and the Pilgrim's Progress. It has 
all the life and variety of the autobiography of Benvenuto CeUini, 
with a deeper piety, and a more refinsd and beautiful simplicity. 



PELLICO. 53 



Some of its most interesting passages are those in which he 
describes the sufferings, the patience,, the serenity, and the tri- 
umphant deaths of some of his fellow prisoners. How touching, 
and yet how instructive, the story of the noble and youthful Oro- 
boni ! How affecting the narrative of his calm and glorious death 
It is at once interesting and dehghtful to find among these mar- 
tyrs of liberty, all of them members of the Papal church, so 
much true piety and virtue. Pelhco himself is a model, not only 
of virtue, but of strong and elevated faith. It was the reading 
of his Bible and prayer which sustained him in his long and pain- 
ful imprisonment. His patience, his gentleness, his all-embracing, 
all-forgiving charity, are conspicuous on every page. 

** To awake," says he, " during the first night in prison, is 
horrible. Is it possible, said I, recollecting where I was ; is it 
possible ? Am I here ? Is it not a dream ? ^ ^ ^ The repose, 
the perfect silence, the short sleep, which had restored my mental 
strength, seemed to have increased a hundred-fold my capacity 
of suffering. In this total absence of everything to distract my 
thoughts, the distress of all my friends, and particularly of my 
father and mother, when they should hear of my arrest, was pic- 
tured in my imagination with incredible force. 

'^ At this moment," said I, " they are yet sleeping tranquilly, 
or, if awake, are perhaps thinking of me with pleasure, having no 
apprehension of the place where I am ! Oh ! happy would it be 
for them, if God should take them from the world before the 
news of my misfortune reaches Turin! Who will give them 
strength to sustain the blow ? 

*' A voice from within seemed to reply to me : ' He whom all 
the afflicted invoke, and love, and feel within them ! He who 
gave strength to a mother to follow to Golgotha, and to stand under 
his cross ! The friend of the unhappy, the friend of mortals !' 



54 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



*'This was the first moment that rehgion triumphed in my 
heart ; and I owed this blessing to filial love. 

'* Hitherto, without being hostile to religion, I had felt its influ- 
ence but little and imperfectly. The common objections, which 
are brought against it, had not appeared to me of much weight, 
and yet a thousand sophistical doubts had weakened my faith. 
These doubts had not for a long time related to the existence of 
God ; and I had continually repeated to myself, if God exists, it 
necessarily follows from His justice that there is another life for 
man who suffers in a world so unjust ; hence follows the great 
reasonableness of aspiring to the blessings of that second life. 
Hence follows a worship, consisting of love to God and our neigh- 
bor, a perpetual striving to ennoble ourselves by generous sacri- 
fices. I had for a long time gone on repeating all this, and I had 
added : ^ And what is Christianity but this perpetual aspiration 
after perfection?' And Christianity, in its essential character, 
being so pure, so philosophical, so unimpeachable, I marvelled that 
an age should have arrived, when philosophy should dare to say, 
* Henceforth I will fill its place.' ' And in what manner wouldst 
thou fill its place? By teaching vice?' 'No, surely.' By 
teaching virtue ? That will be the love of God and our neighbor. 
It will be precisely what Christianity teaches! 

" Although I had thus felt for several years, I had avoided the 
conclusion : * Be then consistent ! Be a Christian ! Be no longer 
offended by abuses ! No longer dwell perversely upon some dif- 
ficult doctrine of the church, since the principal point is this, and 
it is most plain, ' Love God and your neighbor.' 

'' In prison I determined at least to embrace this conclusion, and 
I did embrace it. I hesitated somewhat from the fear, that, if 
any one should happen to learn that I was more religious than 
formerly, he might think he had a right to consider me a bigot. 



PELLICO. 55 



made abject by misfortune. But knowing that I was neither ab- 
ject nor bigoted, I felt complacency in disregarding the possible 
blame I did not deserve ; and I resolved from that time forward 
to be, and avow myself a Christian.'* 

How easily and naturally does this " regenerate soul" cast off 
the obscurities, the superstitions and absurdities of the church in 
which he was educated, and cling to the " one essential thing" 
in our holy faith, common alike to Catholics and Protestants, 
when they truly love God and keep his commandments. 

This was the grand support and solace of Pellico in his dun- 
geon. This, with friendship and literature, made his life beautiful 
and blessed even there. He had with him a copy of Dante and 
the Bible. Speaking of the latter, he says : 

** This divine book, which I had always loved much, even when 
I thought myself an unbeliever, I now studied with more respect 
than ever. Nevertheless, in spite of my will, I often read it with 
my thoughts wandering, and without receiving its meaning. But 
by degrees I became able to meditate upon it more intently, and 
with constantly increasing interest. Such reading never produced 
in me the slightest tendency to bigotry ; I mean to that ignorant 
devotion, which renders one pusillanimous or fanatical. But it 
taught me to love God and man, to desire more and more ear- 
nestly the reign of justice, and to abhor sin, while I pardoned the 
sinner. Christianity instead of destroying any good dispositions, 
which philosophy had formed in me, confirmed and animated 
them by more elevated and more powerful motives. 

'' One day, having read that we ought to pray continually, and 
that true prayer is not the muttering over of many words, after 
the manner of the heathen, but consists in adoring God with sin- 
cerity, both in words and in actions^ and in so living as to make 
them the fulfilments of His holy will, I proposed to myself to 
begin in earnest this unceasing prayer ; that is, never to indulge a 



56 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



thought not inspired by the desire of conforming myself to the 
laws of God. 

" The forms of prayer I used in adoration were always few ; not 
because I undervalue forms, but because I feel myself so consti- 
tuted as to be unable to repeat many, without having my thoughts 
distracted, and forgetting the duty in which I am engaged. 

'' This purpose of always considering myself as in the presence 
of God, instead of being a fatiguing effort of mind and exciting 
my fears, was delightful to me. By remembering that God is 
always near us, that He is in us, or rather that we are in Him, 
solitude became daily less terrible to me. ' Have I not the most 
excellent society V I used to say. And I became cheerful ; I sung 
and whistled with pleasure and tender emotion." 

But, like all others, Silvio had his inward conflicts and trials. 
His harassing imprisonment, his imperfect food, his mental excite- 
ment, and occasional moments of deep and terrible anguish were 
sources of temptation. Once he yielded to their influence, and 
for some days had neglected his Bible and prayer. All this he 
confesses, with the most simple-hearted frankness. But how 
touching and beautiful the account of his restoration to peace and 
his Bible ! . . 

'* My Bible was covered with dust. One of the children of the 
jailer said to me one day, while caressing, ' Since you have left ofi* 
reading in that villain of a book, it seems to me that you are not 
so sad as before!' 

" ' Do you think so V said I. 

*' And taking the Bible, I wiped the dust from it with my hand- 
kerchief, and, opening it at random, my eyes fell upon these 
words : * Then said he to his disciples, it is impossible that of- 
fences should not come,' etc. 

'' I was struck by finding these words, and blushed that the boy 
should have perceived, iv^om the dust which he saw upon it, that 



PELLICO. 57 



I no longer read the Bible, and that he should suppose I had 
become more amiable by being regardless of G-od. 

'* * You graceless little fellow/ said I to him, reproving him 
gently, and grieved for having been an offence to him ; ' this is 
not an ugly hook, and I am in a very bad state since I neglected 
to read it ! When your mother permits you to stay a moment 
with me, I endeavor to drive away my bad humor ; but you 
do not know how it overcomes me when I am alone, when you 
hear me sing like a madman !' 

" The boy left me ; and I felt a degree of pleasure at having 
again taken the Bible in my hand, and having confessed that I 
was in a worse state without it. 

** And had I abandoned thee, my God ? I exclaimed. And 
had I become perverted ? And could I believe that the infa- 
mous sneer of cynicism was suited to my desperate situation ? 

" I pronounced these words with indescribable emotion ; I 
placed the Bible upon a chair, knelt down to read, and I, who 
am so often unable to weep, burst into tears. 

*' Those tears were a thousand times sweeter than all irrational 
mirth. I again' felt the presence of God ! I loved Him, I re- 
pented having offended Him by degrading myself, and I vowed 
never again to separate myself from Him, never again ! 

" Oh, how a sincere return to religion consoles and elevates the 
spirit ! 

*' I read and wept for more than an hour, and rose full of faith, 
that God was with me, that God had pardoned all my folly. 
Then my misfortunes, the torments of the examination, the scaf- 
fold, which w^ould probably be my fate, appeared to me small 
things. I exulted in suffering, since that gave me opportunity 
for the exercise of virtue ; since by suffering, with a resigned spirit, 
I obeyed the Lord." 

Silvio Pellico wrote much in prison, much that perished and 
8* 



58 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



much that was subsequently published. The following will fur* 
nish a fair specimen of his poetical powers : 

CANZOISrE WRITTEN IN PRISON. 

" The love of song what can impart 
To the lone captive's sinking heart ? 
Thou sun 1 thou fount divine 
Of light ! the gift is Thine I 

O, how beyond the gloom 

That wraps my living tomb. 

Through forest, garden, mead and grove, 

All nature drinks the ray 

Of glorious day — 
Inebriate with love I 

The jocund torrents flow 
To distant worlds, that owe 

Their life to Thee ! 
And if a slender ray 
Chance through my bars to stray 

And pierce to me, 
My cell, no more a tomb, 
Smiles in its caverned gloom — 

As nature to the free. 

If scarce thy bounty yields 
To these ungenial fields 

The gift divine ; 
shed thy blessings here^ 
Now while in dungeons drear, 

Italians pine ! 

Thy splendors faintly known, 
Sclavonia may not own 
For thee the love 
Our hearts must move,^ 



PELLICO. 59 



Who from our cradle learn 
To adore thee, and to yearn 

With passionate desire 
(Our nature's fondest prayer, 
Needful as vital air) 

To see thee, or expire 

Beneath my native, distant sky, 
The captive's sire and mother sigh ; 
O never there may darkling cloud, 
With veil of circling horror shroud 

The rising day ; 
But thy warm beams, still glowing bright, 
Enchant their hearts with joyous light, 

And charm their grief away." 



In his later years poor Pellico became timid and conservative. 
He lost the hope and enthusiasm of his youth, and died, it is 
said, a devotee of the Papal church. 



CHAPTER V. 

Ugo Foscolo — Sketch of his Life — Hymn to the Graces — Poem of * I Se- 
pofbri' — Alessandro Manzoni — Tragedy of the Conte Carmagnola — Ode 
on the Death of Napoleon — Vicenzo Monti — His career — Poetry — The 
fall of Jerusalem from the Bassevilliana — Parini — Beccaria. 

Ugo Foscolo, whose name we have mentioned as forming a part 
of the brilliant circle in Milan, during the brief reign of Napoleon 
in Italy, was born at sea, near the Ionian Islands. His parents, 
were Venetians. He received the elementary branches of educa- 
tion at Venice, but completed his studies at the University of 
Padua. He studied diligently the Greek and Roman poets and 
historians, and became enamored of republican freedom. His 
first appearance as an author was in the tragedy of " Tieste," 
which attracted attention chiefly by its bold political sentiments 
and love of liberty. Ardent and impassioned, he longed to real- 
ize his own political dreams. In this way he subjected himself 
to the suspicions of the government, and found it desirable to 
leave Venice for Florence, where he devoted his attention to liter- 
ature, and took great pleasure in brooding over the tombs of the 
mighty dead in Santa Croce. Thence he went to Milan, the cap- 
ital of the so-called Cisalpine RepubUc, whose existence was as 
brief as its rise was sudden and premature. Here he took an 
active part in the political agitations of the times ; plunged head 
and ears in love w'th a noble Roman lady of extraordiiaary beauty, 
and described his passion in a work, entitled " Letters of Two 



FOSCOLO. 61 



Lovers." He joined the Lombard legion, and suffered a two 
months' siege in Genoa, during which he composed several of 
his poems. 

The return of Napoleon from Egypt restored Foscolo to Milan, 
about which time he wrote the celebrated ** Letters of Jacopo 
Ortis," which, with a considerable infusion of sentimentalism and 
extravagance, contain some fine bursts of indignant eloquence on 
the wrongs of his suffering country. He urges the necessity of 
a complete, and, if necessary, a bloody revolution. 

Being a captain in the army with which Napoleon proposed to 
invade England, he was stationed for some time at St. Omer, 
where he commenced the study of the English language. 

In 1805 he returned to Italy, and resided for a short time in 
Brescia, where he wrote the / Sepolcri, the most touching and 
popular of all his poems. He was subsequently appointed pro- 
fessor of eloquence at Pavia ; but the professorship being abol- 
ished, he retired to the house of a friend near Lake Como, where 
scenes of rural beauty, pleasant society, and literary converse, 
aided in dissipating the gloom which so frequently overshadowed 
his spirit. From his singular and outre appearance, long hair, 
flashing eyes, and enthusiastic notions, the daughter of his host 
wittily styled him, '' a sentimental thunderbolt !" 

He returned once more to Florence, and wrote one or two trage- 
dies, which "v^ere not particularly successful. On the fall of 
Napoleon he retired into Switzerland, and resided two years in 
the fine, old, picturesque town of Zurich. Thence he passed over 
to England, and was received with great enthusiasm by the liter- 
ary circles, and the liberal portion of the nobility. He wrote 
many articles for the Reviews, and took part in the celebrated 
discussion about the Digamma. He also delivered, in his native 
tongue, a brilliant course of lectures on Italian literature, for 
which he received a thousand pounds, and might have lived with 



(52 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



much respectability and comfort, had he not indulged an un- 
bounded extravagance. He gave himself up to all the enjoyments 
of life, built a splendid villa, which was called by his friends 
" Digamma Cottage,'' furnished it in the most costly style, and 
entertained company like a nabob, attended by three beautiful 
servants, whom he called 'the Graces.' Unfortunately, sceptical 
and extravagant in all his notions, Foscolo, unlike his noble friend 
and admirer, Pellico, was ever an epicurean, and yielded implicitly 
to the current of his passions. He was not only extravagant, but 
fiery and ungovernable ; and hence lost not merely his friends, 
but his credit and standing in society. Much injured by evil re- 
ports among his countrymen, he shut himself out from their soci- 
ety, and would not see any of them. '* I am resolved hereafter," 
says he, '' no more to hear the voice or see the face of an Italian. 
I should love the conversation of some of them ; but seeing that 
they all persecute me, and that the report of new scandals comes 
to my ears, I shut myself out from you all. A curse on you ! 
Be it my happiness no more to hear you ! Italy now is a dead 
hodt/.^' He fell into deep melancholy. Digamma Cottage was 
abandoned ; his books even were sold to buy bread ; and at last, 
poor and desolate, he died in 1830, without sufficient means to 
defray the expenses of his funeral. But he was a true poet, and 
has exerted much influence upon the Italian mind. His " Hymn 
to the Graces," addressed to Luigi Pallavicini, is worthy of the 
theme, and glows with beauty. What can be finer than the open- 
ing stanzas ? 

" As when forth beams from ocean's caves 

The star to Love's own mother dear; 
Her dew-bespangled tresses wave, 

Scattering the night shades dim and drear, 
And far illumes her heavenly way, 
With light poured from the eternal founts of day : 



FOSCOLO. 63 



So beauty from the curtained couch, 

Her charms divine, and features rare, 
More lovely with the shadowing touch 

Of sorrow that yet lingers there, 
Revives — and radiant glads our eyes. 
Still, sweetest soother of man's woe-bom sighs. 

Soon, like the roses on thy cheek, 

The buds of joy again unfold ; 
Those large dark eyes, so wild, yet meek — 

Bewitching smiles and looks untold — 
With all those wiles that wake again 
Each mother's fears, and lover's keener pain." 

But the " I Sepolcri," the Sepulchres, is Foscolo's most per- 
fect poem. It breathes ** the very soul of melancholy and 
poetry." Its reference especially to the graves of Italy, and its 
descriptions of those hallowed localities where repose the dust of 
Dante, Machiavelli, Michael Angelo, and other poets and sages 
of his native land, are exceedingly touching. 

" Yes, Pindemonte ! 
The aspiring soul is fired to lofty deeds 
By great men's monuments, and they make fair 
And holy to the pilgrim's eye the earth 
That has received their dust. When I beheld 
The spot where sleeps enshrined that noble genius,* 
Who humbling the proud sceptres of earth's kings, 
Stripped thence the illusive wreaths, and showed the nations 
What tears and blood defiled them — when I saw 
His mausoleum, who upreared in Romef 
A new Olympus to the Deity — 
And his,:!: who 'neath heaven's azure canopy, 
Saw worlds unnumbered roll, and suns unmoved 

* Machiavelli. f Michasl Angelo. J Galileo. 



64 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Irradiate countless systems — treading first 

For Albion's son, who soared, on wings sublime, 

The shining pathways of the firmament — 

' blest art thou, Etruria's Queen,'* I cried, 

* For thy pure airs so redolent of life, 

And the fresh streams thy mountain summits pour, 

In homage at thy feet ! In thy blue sky 

The glad moon walks — and robes with silver light 

Thy vintage-smiling hills ; and valleys fair, 

Studded with domes and olive groves, send up 

To heaven the incense of a thousand flowers. 

Thou, FloreiTce, first did hear the song divine. 

That cheered the Ghibelline'sf indignant flight, 

And thou the kindred and sweet language gav'st 

To him,, the chosen of Calliope,;}: 

Who love with purest veil adorning — Love 

That went unrobed in elder Greece and Rome, 

Restored him to a heavenly Yenus' smile. 

Yet far more blest, that in thy fane repose 

Italia's buried glories! — all perchance 

She e'er may boast! Since o'er the barrier frail 

Of Alpine rocks the overwhelming tide of fate 

Hath swept in mighty wreck her arms, her wealth, 

Altars and country, and, save memory — all ! 

When from past fan^o springs hope of future deeds 

In daring minds, for Italy enslaved. 

Draw we our auspice-;. Around these tombs 

In thought entranced, Alfieri wandered oft, 

Indignant at his country ; hither strayed. 

O'er Arno's desert plain, and looked abroad 

With silent longing on the field and sky ; 

And when no living aspect soothed his grief 

•* Florence ; where, in the old church of Santa Croce, may be seen the 
monuments of Machiavelli, Dante, Galileo, Alfieri, and others, 
f Dante. 
X Petrarch. 



MANZONI. 65 



Turned to the voiceless dead ; while on his brow 
There sat the paleness, with the hope of death. 
With them he dwells forever ; here his bones 
Murmur a patriot's love. 0, truly speaks 
A god from his abode of pious rest ! 
The same which fired of old, in Grecian bosoms, 
Hatred of Persian foes a I Marathon, 
Where Athens consecrates her heroes gone.' " 

One of the contributors to tbe " Conciliator" was Alessandro 
Manzoni, a man of fine character and resplendent genius, who 
has attained equal celebrity in prose and verse. He was born at 
Milan in 1784, of a noble family, and early distinguished himself 
by his poetical talent. His mother was a daughter of the cele- 
brated Marquis Beccaria, one of the noblest men, and one of the 
best writers on political subjects that Italy has produced. It 
was the " Inni Sacri," or "Sacred Hymns," in which he cre- 
ated a new species of Italian poetry, that first attracted the 
public admiration. His tragedies, though slightly deficient in 
dramatic power, have placed him at the very head of this species 
of literature in Italy. They abound in magnificent pictures and 
noble sentiments, and breathe the very spirit of patriotism and 
virtue. His *' Conte di Carmagnola" was published in 1820,. 
and made a great sensation not only in Italy, but in Germany 
and England. It is founded on an incident in Venetian history, 
which gives it a national interest. 

From the condition of a peasant, Francesco Buffo, for that was 
the original name of the Count of Carmagnola, had risen, by the 
force of his energy and heroism, to the highest distinctions in the 
republic of Milan. But those who had aided in his elevation 
became jealous of his greatness, and sought hiis ruin. Escaping 
from Milan, he took refuge in Venice, and after signalizing his 
fidehty and fortitude in some well-fought fields, he was appointed 



66 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



general of the Venetian army. The highest success justified the 
appointment, and he became the object of universal admiration 
among the Venetians. Some slight reverses, however, and a 
suspicion of treachery, caused the Council of Ten to pronounce 
against him the sentence of death. It was kept a profound 
secret from the Count, who was recalled home, and conducted to 
the house of the Doge Foscari, with great pomp and ceremony. 
The Doge excused himself from making his appearance, on the 
ground of indisposition. As it grew later, the unsuspecting 
Count took his leave, and was accompanied, on the plea of re- 
spect, by some of the nobles, to the palace court. There, as he 
was taking the ordinary path to the gates, one of them requested 
him to pass over to the other side, in the direction of the pris- 
ons. "That is not my way," he remarked ; and he was signifi- 
cantly answered : " It is your way." As he crossed the thresh- 
old of the dungeon, the truth flashed upon him, and deeply 
sighing, he exclaimed : '* I see it — I am a dead man !" For three 
days he refused all sustenance ; and at their expiration he was 
led to the chamber of torture, and subjected to tlie most appall- 
ing cruelties. Yielding to the pressure of pain, he confessed enough 
to justify the Ten in executing their sentence. He lingered in 
prison for three weeks, and was then conducted, after vespers, on 
the fifth of May, to " the two columns." To prevent his speaking 
to the multitude, in order to excite their pity by a reference to 
his former services, or appealing against what might be deemed 
an unjust sentence, his mouth was gagged. He was clad in scar- 
let hose, a cap of velvet from his native town, a crimson mantle, 
and a scarlet vest, with the sleeves tied behind his back. It was 
not till the third stroke, that his head was severed from his 
body ; his remains were then removed in a gondola, and 
buried by torch-light in the church of San Francesco della 
Vigna. Such are the historical facts, on the basis of which 



MANZONI. 67 



Manzoni has constructed his tragedy ; and it can readily be con- 
ceived what a mournful interest he has thrown into it, and what 
noble sentiments he has suggested in connection with the various 
incidents. His descriptions are bold and striking. Among others, 
it contains one of the piost vivid pictures of the horrors of battle 
which we have seen. 

" "Woe to the victors, and the vanquished woe ! 

The earth is heaped, is loaded with the slain 
Loud and more loud the cries of fury grow ; 

A sea of blood is swelling o'er the plain. 
But from the embattled front already, lo ! 

A band recedes — it flies — all hope is vain ; 
And vernal hearts, despairing of the strife 
"Wake to the love, the clinging love of life. 

As the light grain disperses in the air, 

Borne by the winnowing of the gales around, 

Thus fly the vanquished, in their wild despair, 
Chased, severed, scattered, o'er the ample ground. 

But mightier bands, that lay in ambush there, 

Burst on their flight — and hark, the deepening sound 

Of fierce pursuit ! — still nearer, and more near, 

The rush of war-steeds trampling in the rear ! 

The day is won ! — they fall — disarmed they yield, 
Low at the conqueror's feet all suppliant lying 1 

'Midst shouts of victory, pealing o'er the field. 
Ah ! who may hear the murmurs of the dying ? 

"Haste 1 let the tale of triumph be revealed ! 
E'en now the courier to his steed is flying ; 

He spurs — he speeds — the tidings of the day, 

To rouse up cities in his lightening way. 

"Why pour ye forth from your deserted homes, 
O eager multitudes around him pressing ; 



68 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Each hurrying where his breathless courser foams, 
Each tongue, each eye infatuate hope confessing ? 

Know ye not whence the ill-omened herald comes, 
And dare ye dream he comes with words of blessing ? 

Brothers by brothers slain, lie low and cold I 

Be ye content ! the glorious tale is told. 

I hear the voice of joy, the exulting cry ! 

They deck the shrine, they swell the choral strains ; 
E'en now the homicides assail the sky 

"With paeans, which indignant Heaven disdains ! 
But from the soaring Alps, the stranger's eye. 

Looks watchful down on our ensanguined plains, 
And with the cruel rapture of a foe, 
I^umbers the mighty stretched in death below." 



Italy has suffered more than any other country from war, ex- 
ternal and internal. It has been one of her most terrible curses. 
Every great quarrel among the different states ; every vital ques- 
tion, moral, social, political and religious, has been settled in blood. 
This extinguished liberty — this destroyed the reformation — and 
this, we fear, even now, will retard the happy day of her final 
emancipation. What she wants is freedom — freedom of thought — 
freedom of worship — freedom of virtue. Then will come peace, 
harmony and progress. Manzoni sees this, if not with reference 
to religion, at least with reference to civil and political rights. He 
would unite all Italy in one common brotherhood, and give it 
freedom, independence and progress. 

" Are we not creatures of one hand divine. 

Formed in one mould, to one redemption born — 
Kindred alike, where'er our skies may shine, 
Where'er our sight first drank the vital morn ? 



MANZONL 69 



Brothers, one bond around our souls should twine ; 
And woe to him by whom that bond is torn — 
Who mounts, by trampling broken hearts to earth, 
Who bows down spirits of immortal birth !" 



Manzoni is the author of one or two more tragedies, in all of 
which he has thrown off the restraints of the French school, and 
discarded -^ the unities/' as they are called, which till then had 
cramped the genius of Italian tragedy. He has also distinguish- 
ed himself as a novel writer, of the Scott and Cooper school. 
His " I Promessi Sposi,'' or ** The Betrothed y*^ is well known, 
having been translated into various languages. Manzoni is pro- 
foundly interested in the regeneration of Italy, and enters heartily 
into the views of Gioberti, Yentura, and others, who propose to 
unite the interests of religion with political amelioration, and 
make the Church the means of social and civil progress. 
Among his miscellaneous poems, one of the best known, and 
most admired, is the ode on the death of Napoleon, entitled, 
'' II Cinque Maggio," or '' The Fifth of May.'* It -possesses, in a 
high degree, grandeur and energy. 

" He was. — As motionless as lay 

First mingled with the dead, 
The relics of the senseless clay, 

Whence such a soul had jfled — 
The earth astounded holds her breath, 
Struck with the tidings of his death ; 
She pauses, the last hour to see. 
Of the dread Man of Destiny ; 
Nor knows she when another tread, 
Like that of the once mighty dead, 
Shall such a footprint leave impressed 
As his, in blood, upon her breast. 



10 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



I saw him blazing on his throne, 

Yet hailed him not ; by restless fate 
. Hmied from the giddy summit down, 

Kesume again his lofty state ; 
Saw him at last forever fall, 
Still mute amid the shouts of all ; 
Free from base flattery when he rose, 

From baser outrage when he fell ; 
Now his career has reached its close. 

My voice is raised the truth to tell, 
And o'er his exiled urn will try 
To pour a strain that shall not die. 

From Alps to Pyramids were thrown 
His bolts, from Scylla to the Don, 

From Manzanares to the Rhine, 
From sea to sea, unerring hurled ; 

And ere the flash had ceased to shine, 
Burst on their aim and shook the world. 

"Was this true glory ? — the high doom 
Must be pronounced by times to come : 

For us we bow before his throne, 
"Who willed, in giving mortal clay, 
With such a spirit, to display 

A grander impress of his own. 

His was the stormy, fierce delight 

To dare adventure's boldest scheme ; 
The soul of fire that burned for might. 

And could of naught but empire dream 
And his the indomitable will 
That dream of empire to fulfill, 
And to a greatness to attain, 
'Twere madness to have hoped to gain : ' 
All these were his ; nor these alone — 
Flight, victory, exile, and the throne — 
Twice in the dust by thousands trod, 
Twice on the altar as a god. 



MANZONI. Tl 



Two ages stood in anus arrayed, 

Contending which should victor be: 
He spake — his mandate they obeyed, 

And bowed to hear their destiny. 
He stepped between them, to assume 
The mastery, and pronounce their doom ; 
Then vanished, and inactive wore 
Life's remnant out on that lone shore. 
What envy did his palmy state, 

What pity his reverses move ! 
Object of unrelenting hate, 

And unextinguishable love ! 

As beat innumerable waves, 

O'er the last floating plank that saves 

One sailor from the wreck, whose eye 

Intently gazes o'er the main, 
Far in the distance to descry 

Some speck of hope — ^but all in vain ; 
Did countless waves of memory roll 
Incessant, thronging on his soul ; 
Recording for a future age, 

The tale of his renown, • 
How often on the immortal page 

His hand sank weary down ! 

Oft on some sea-beat cliff, alone 

He stood — the lingering daylight gone, 

And pensive evening come at last-^ 
With folded arms, and eyes declined; 
While, O I what visions on his mind 

Came rushing — of the past ! 
The rampart stormed, the tented field, 

His eagles glittering far and wide, 
His columns never taught to yield. 

His cavalry's resistless tide, 
Watching each motion of his hand, 
Swift to obey the swift command. 



72 7ENIUS OF ITALY 

Such thoughts perchance last filled his breast, 
And his departing soul oppressed, 

To tempt it to despair ; 
Till from on high a hand of might 
In mercy came, to guide its flight 

Up to a purer air — 
Leading it o'er hope's path of flowers 

To the celestial plains, 
Where greater happiness is ours 

Than even fancy feigns ; 
And where earth's fleeting glories fade 
Into the shadow of a shade. 

Immortal, bright, beneficent, 

Faith used to victories, on thy roll 
"Write this with joy ; for never bent 
"^ Beneath death's hand a haughtier soul ; 

Thou from the worn and pallid clay 
Chase every bitter word away, 

1? hat would ins-ult the dead : 
His holy crucifix, whose breath 
Has power to raise, or to depress, 
Send consolation and distress, 

Lay by him on that lowly bed, ^ 

And hallowed it in death."* 

One other name, that of Vicenzo Monti, changeable and 
inconsistent as he was, we must not omit to mention in con- 
nection with those of Foscolo and Manzoni. He was born, in 
IY54, at Fusignano, a town of Romagna, and died, we beheve, in 
Milan, in 1828. He was intended for one of the learned pro- 

* It is well known that Napoleon, previous to his death, professed his 
conviction of the truth of Christianity, which in the days of his prosperity 
he had denied ; and that he died in express dependence upon the Son of God, 
of whose death the crucifix, among Catholics, is the emblem. But of his final 
state, who dare?, with confidence, to speak ? 



MONTI. 78 



fessions, but abandoned everything for literature and poetry. 
While a student at Ferrara, his talents attracted the attention of 
Cardinal Borg hese, the Pope's legate, who took him to Rome, 
where he received considerable attention, was elected a member 
of the Arcadia, and appointed secretary to Luigi Braschi, the 
Pope's nephew. About this time he was married to Theresa 
Pichler, daughter of the celebrated artist. Fired with the tragedies 
of Alfieri, who introduced an entire revolution in that species of 
literature in Italy, and eager to emulate the genius of that extra- 
ordinary man, he produced *' Aristodemo," a drama, which was 
received at the time with the highest enthusiasm, and still con- 
tinues to excite mingled surprise and delight, as a production of 
great finish and power from the hand of so young a man. His 
other tragedies, however, did not meet the public expectation. 
This decay of talent has been ascribed by some to his renuncia- 
tion of his early principles ; and certainly, political tergiversation 
and sycophancy are well fitted to blunt, if not to extinguish, the 
generous aspirations of poetry. He began his career by exposing 
in his " Bassevilliana," a poem in four cantos, on the model of the 
'^ Divina Commedia," the atrocious principles of the first French 
Revolution. It was written on the occasion of the assassination in 
Rome of the French Minister, Basseville, whence its peculiar title, 
whose soul he represents as condemned to wander over France to 
behold the desolations produced by the Revolution, the death of 
Louis Sixteenth, and the advance of the armies of the Holy Alli- 
ance towards France, for the restoration of the Bourbons. When 
repubhcanism was established in Italy, he unhesitatingly veered 
about, and wrote the *' Prometheus," in which he proclaimed 
himself a zealous republican. But as soon as Napoleon decided 
that a stern military rule was the best for Italy, Monti, after 
some deliberation, came to the same conclusion, and glorified, in 
his songs, the indomitable Emperor of Italy ! He was appointed 
4 



74 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



by Napo.eon, Assessor of the Ministry of the Interior, Court Poet, 
Knight of the Iron Crown, Member of the Legion of Honor, and 
Historiographer of the kingdom. 

On the downfall of Napoleon, he lost all his honors, but was 
instantly prepared to yield to the power of Austria, and magnify 
the splendor of the House of Hapsburg. "It is well," one sar- 
castically remarks, " that Satan has not since appeared in Italy, 
or verily Monti would have knelt down and worshipped him also." 
This, however, is too severe, or at least too harshly expressed. 
Monti, like many others, possessed a vacillating disposition, and 
although disposed, upon the whole, to do right, was not capable 
of making great sacrifices on its behalf. He too easily persuaded 
himself that '^ whatever is, is best," and, at all hazards, tried to 
secure personal peace and comfort. He is the type of a large 
class in Italy who shout for freedom, but cannot suffer for it ; 
who, to-day, will devoutly offer incense upon the altar of patriot- 
ism, and to-morrow will suffer any despot to set his foot upon 
their necks. 

The follow^ing, from his " Basse villiana," describing the destruc- 
tion of Jerusalem, by the hand of the Almighty, will give a good 
idea of his poetical power : 

" Under his feet the heavens and starry train 

Tremble and roll ; the howling whirlwinds fly, 
Calling each tempest-winged hurricane, 

Chanting its thunder-psalm throughout the sky ; 
And filled with arrows of consuming fire, 

His quiver he hath slung upon his thigh. 
As smoke before the storm's ungoverned ire, 

The mountains melt before his dread approach ; 
The rapid eye marks not the avenging sire, 

Whilst burning to remove the foul reproach.* 

* The reproach of the crucifixioa 



MONTI. 75 



Now from Ausonia's strand the troop departs, 

On the inviolate temple to encroach. 
Oedron afar the murmur hears and starts ; 

But, lifting not to heaven his trembling font, 
Through Siloa's slender brook confounded darts. 

Wow scorning to attire with splendor wont 
Thy plains, the Sun eclipses, and the brand 

God from the sheath draws on thy impious front. 
I see his lightnings flash upon the band 

Of armies round thy synagogue impure, 
Thine altars blazing as the fires expand ! 

I see where war, and death, and fear secure, 
Midst the hoarse clang of each terrific sound, 

Gigantic stalk through falling towers obscure ! 
Like deer, when sharp the springing tigers bound 

Upon their timid troop, thy virgins' trains 
And sires unwarlike every foe surround. 

With glaring eyeballs and distended veins, 
Forth desperation flies from throng to throng, 

And frantic life at his own hand disdains. 
Diso rder follows fast, and shrieks prolong 

The hideous tumult. Then the city falls, 
Avenging horribly her prophet's wrong. 

Amidst the carnage on the toppling walls. 
Howls and exults and leaps wild Cruelty, 

And priest and youth and age alike appalls. 
With naked swords, and through a blood-red sea, 

Flowing around the mountains of the dead. 
Victorious rides the insulting enemy; 

The flames, the buildings, temple, soon o'erspread 
With divine fury, and the heavens despised 

Smile on the horror which their tempest bred. 
Thus with foul scorn dishonored and disguised, 

The conquering Latin eagles bore enchained 
Jerusalem's disloyal ark chastised ; 

And she now lies witli frightful footsteps stained, 
Buried 'midst thorns and sand, and the hot sun 



1e GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Scares the fierce dragon where her judge once reigned 

Thus when from heaven the fatal bolt hath done 
Sad desolation in some glorious wood, 

Striking the boughs which upward highest run ; 
Though scorched and burnt, still o'er its neighborhood 

Majestic towers aloft the giant oak, 
As poised bj its own ponderous weight it stood, 

Waiting the thunder of a second stroke." 

But we cannot remain longer in Milan, attractive as it is, and 
although there are other distinguished names connected with its 
history which demand our attention, Parini in particular, a man 
of great wit and learning, who died in 1799, author of *'I1 
Giorno," (The Day,) a satirical poem, which describes with much 
force and wit the manners of the great ; and above all, the Mar- 
quis Beccaria, contemporary with Parini, who, by his philosophical 
and political writings, did more than any other man of his age to 
banish the barbarities of the feudal system, and the cruelties of 
the dark ages, from criminal legislation. But other parts of Italy 
attract us more powerfully, and the diligenza waits to take us 
across the country to Venice, a long and fatiguing journey, but 
passing through a region of much historical interest and many 
charming localities. Of these, however, we say nothing, as they 
have often been described, and can easily be imagined by the 
intelligent reader. Brescia, Cremona, Mantua, and other places 
redolent of antiquity, but much faded by time, successively re- 
ceive us. At last we embark upon the river Adige, and erelong 
find ourselves gliding through the liquid streets of Venice, among 
the grotesque buildings and flitting gondolas of that singular but 
beautiful city. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Venice — Yiew from the Tower of St. Mark — Sketch of Venetian history — 
Prosperity — Freedom — Degeneracy — Narrow and Despotic Policy — Cru- 
elty — The Foscari — Council of Ten — Police — Anecdote of a French No- 
bleman — Revolution — First, Second and Third Acts of the Drama — Hope. 

Early in the morning, just as the sun is rising from the blue 
waves of the Adriatic, we ascend the lofty tower of St. Mark, that 
ancient, oriental looking cathedral, whose Byzantine magnificence 
reminds us of the early glory of the Republic, and the blind old 
Doge Dandolo, who brought back from his eastern crusade the 
treasures of Constantinople to adorn the capital. The light be- 
gins to cast a deep flush upon the bosom of the deep, and tinge, 
with purple glories, the distant summits of the Euganean hills. A 
slight haze, flecked with sunshine, hovers over the city far be- 
neath us. Half in shadow, half in light, gleam the long ranges 
of streets, old palaces, towers and churches, threaded by innu- 
merable canals, in which the dark gondolas, loaded with pro- 
visions, fruits and flowers from the country, are seen gliding to 
and fro, and making their way to the centre of the city. Yonder 
is the magnificent arch of the Rialto, the palace of the Doge, the 
Giant's Stairs, and beneath, the Bridge of Sighs, over which 
criminals passed on their way to imprisonment and death, and 
the dark, deep dungeons below, where the lonely prisoner, in the 
hush of the morning, or the silence of the night, could hear the 
plashing of the water, and the stroke of the oar above his head. 



78 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Bridges innumerable span the canals, and everywhere you see 
marks of the former wealth and splendor of Yenice. But the 
light deepens, and the whole city glows, like an oriental dream, 
in the soft radiance of the flickering sun. 

" Underneath day's azure eyes. 
Ocean's nursling, Venice, lies- — 
A peopled labyrinth of walls, 
Amphitrite's destined halls. 
Which her hoary sire now paves, 
With his blue and beaming waves. 
Lo, the sun up-springs behind, 
Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined 
On the level quivering line 
Of the waters crystalline ; 
And before that chasm of light, 
As within a furnace bright. 
Column, tower, and dome and spire, 
Shine like obelisks of fire. 
Pointing with inconstant motion 
From the altar of dark ocean. 
To the sapphire-tinted skies, 
As the flames of sacrifice 
From the marble shrines did rise. 
As to pierce the dome of gold 
Where Apollo spoke of old." * 

But this is the poetical aspect of Venice. Descend into the 
streets, or canals, and pass around from point to point, and every- 
where you will see tokens of decay. Many of the old palaces 
are deserted, or faUing into ruins ; and although much of gran- 
deur and beauty yet remains, it is faded and dim. The city con- 
tains a large population, and has considerable commerce, but 
nothing in comparison to what it once enjoyed, when it was the 

* Shelley 



VENICE, 79 



•' Queen of the seas," and " Mistress of a hundred isles." Indeed, 
it is but the shadow of its former self. 

Venice boasts a remote antiquity. In the days of Attila, when 
the Huns and Lombards overran the north of Italy, the poor in- 
habitants took refuge in the reedy islands of the Adriatic, par 
ticularly in the Riva Alto, or Rial to, where they built their rude 
huts, and ramparts to protect them from their enemies. Silently 
and imperceptibly rose the city from the sea, occupied by a nu- 
merous and enterprising population. A small democratic repub- 
lic, the first in modern Europe, was established under magistrates 
called tribunes. In the year 697, the islands elected their first 
Do^e, or Dux, that is, leader or chief, in the person of Paolucci 
Anafesto. The tribunes, or the nobility, had the judiciary, the 
people the legislative, and the Doge the executive power^ Gradu- 
ally Yenice increased her commerce, and extended her dominion. 
The sea was covered with her ships, and the land with her citizens, 
artisans and merchants. The cities of Dalmatia put themselves 
under her protection, and Constantinople and the East poured 
their treasures at her feet. She gained immense advantages in 
the Crusades; not only fame, but marts for her commerce in 
Ptolemais, Jerusalem, Tyre and Ascalon. In 1202, Constantino- 
ple was taken by the Venetians, French and others, under the 
brave' Henrico Dandolo, old and blind as he was, from which 
resulted the acquisition of Candia, several Ionian islands, and 
others in the Archipelago. 

Venice added to her power and glory, by assisting Alexander 
Third in humbling the fierce Barbarossa ; in return for which ser- 
vice, and as a lasting memorial of his esteem, that able but ambi- 
tious pontiff bestowed upon her a ring, with which to espouse 
the sea, and symbolize the empire which he bestowed upon her 
over the waters of the globe. This was the origin of the well- 



80 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



known nuptials of Venice with the Adriatic, celebrated each year, 
with great pomp and ceremony, in the Bucentaur. 

This was the period of her greatest commercial and military 
glory ; the manners of the people were softened, and the arts 
began to flourish. 

At the close of the thirteenth century the East India trade 
passed from Constantinople to Alexandria ; Genoa, the rival of 
Venice, possessed herself of the commerce of the Byzantine Em- 
pire; and the overreaching nobles of the Venetian Repubhc 
declared themselves hereditary. Then commenced the subversion 
of her free institutions ; and although Venice continued to increase 
in wealth and greatness until the fifteenth century, and gained 
great advantages over Genoa and the neighboring countries, the 
seeds of decline were sown in her constitution. From that time 
she gradually descended from her high and palmy state. The 
Portuguese discovered a passage by sea to the East Indies ; the 
Turks, who had become masters of Constantinople, swept every- 
thing before them, and took possession of most of her oriental 
conquests ; while long and harassing wars with the neighboring 
repubhcs exhausted her resources and reduced her wealth. The 
government of the State was invested in a Council of Ten, and 
three Inquisitors were chosen, with unlimited powers to cite, 
imprison and punish all suspected persons. For this purpose 
they made ample use of spies and informers, racks and dungeons. 
Thousands of citizens disappeared, no one could tell when or how ; 
and a spirit of fear and suspicion took possession of the public 
mind. Yet was Venice ever a gay and giddy scene. The citi- 
zens gave themselves up to the pursuit of pleasure. Intrigue and 
debauchery went hand in hand with tyranny and fear. 

" The sea, that emblem of uncertainty 
Changed not so fast for many and many an age 



VErviCK. 81 

As this small spot. To day 'twas full of masks ; 

And lo ! the madness of the carnival, 

The monk, the nun, the holy legate masked ! 

To-morrow came the scaffold and the wheel ; 

And he died there by torch-light, bound and gagged, 

Whose name and crime they knew not." 

And yet, strange to tell, this lasted for many long years ; and 
the strength, energy and consistency of the Venetian government 
were a wonder and mystery to all the States of Europe. Machia- 
velli is in raptures with it ; and, even now, it inspires, in many 
minds, a feeling of reverence and awe. Doubtless many of the 
State councillors and inquisitors were men not only of profound 
sagacity, but of lofty patriotism. Occasionally they displayed all 
the resources of genius and virtue. But, generally, they were a 
proud and ambitious race, who used their tremendous power for 
purposes of oppression and revenge. One of the most striking 
instances of the exertion *of their irresponsible authority, occurred 
in the case of the Doge Marino Faliero — 

" Whose grizzly head 
Rolled down the Giant's stairs" — 

for an alleged conspiracy against the State, to which he had been 
urged on, in order to take revenge on the nobles for an insult 
which had been offered him by Michael Steno, one of that proud 
aristocracy, who had reflected on the virtue of the Doge's wife. 
A still more striking instance occurred in the case of Giacomo 
Foscari, son of the old Doge of that name, for the alleged crime 
of receiving a bribe from a foreign State. This fact has been 
made the basis of a tragedy by Lord Byron, and finely versified 
by Rogers in his beautiful poem of Italy. After all, the simple 
narrative is more affecting than either. 

Wearied with the cares of State, and foreseeing troubles ahead. 



82 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



the old Doge had once and again asked permission to retire from 
his office; but so far from granting his request, the Council 
exacted of him an oath to retain it for life. Three of his four 
sons were already dead, *' hunted down" by the fell adversaries 
of his house. Giacomo, young, beautiful and brave, was his only 
pride and hope. He had formed a splendid alliance with the 
noble family of the Contarini, and was one of the greatest favorites 
among the Venetians. But four years, from his marriage he was 
accused of having received presents from foreign potentates, a 
high crime in Venice ; and, in the presence of his own father, he 
was subjected to the rack, and when a confession was extorted 
from him in his agony, that father was compelled to pronounce 
his sentence of banishment for life. 

Some years after, an assassination occurred in the streets of 
Venice. The chief of the Ten, Donato, was murdered on his 
return from a sitting of the Council, at his own door, by un- 
known hands. A victim was demanded for this monstrous offense, 
and the coadjutors of the slain magistrate eagerly caught at the 
slightest clue which might lead to the detection of the offender. 
A servant of Giacomo Foscari had been seen in Venice on the 
evening of the murder, and it was said that, on being met by the 
<5hief of the Ten in a boat off Mestre, the ijext morning, he had, 
in answer to the question, ** What news V reported the assassina- 
tion some hours before it was generally known. The servant was 
arrested, examined, and barbarously tortured; but even the 
eightieth application of the Strappado failed to elicit a word 
which might justify their suspicion. And yet the young Foscari 
was recalled, placed on the rack vacated by his servant, tortured 
in his father's presence, and condemned, although he persisted 
to the last in asserting^ his innocence. On this he was banished 
to a more distant and painful exile. In the mean while Niccolo 
Erizzo, a noble infamous for his crimes, confessed on his death- 



VENICE. 83 



bed, that it was under his dagger that the murdered councillor 
had fallen. And yet Giacomo Foscari suffered no remission of 
his punishment ! 

But the love of home was strong upon the exile. Day and 
night he dreamed of his wife and children, until his brain reeled, 
and he resolved that he would procure his recall at any risk. So, 
writing to the Prince of Milan, imploring his good offices with the 
Senate, he left the letter where it would easily be found by the 
spies, whowatched him even in his exile. The result was a hasty 
summons to Venice, to answer for the heavy crime of soliciting 
foreign intercession with his native government. 

For a third time Francesco Foscari listened to the accusation 
of his son, who calmly avowed his offense, but stated that he had 
committed it for the sole purpose of being recalled. But there 
was " no flesh" in the obdurate hearts of his judges. Thirty times 
was he raised on '' the accursed cord,'* and yet no false confession 
came from the quivering lips of the sufferer. Torn, bleeding and 
senseless, he was carried to the apartments of the Doge, firm in 
his original purpose. But the judges were equally firm in theirs, 
and again renewed his sentence of exile, with the addition that its 
first year should be spent in prison. Before his departure, one 
interview was permitted with his family. The Doge, his father^ 
was now old and decrepit, and when he came, supported by his 
crutch, into the chamber, he spake with great firmness, so that it 
might appear as if he was addressing another than his son — his 
only son ! '^ Go, Giacomo," was his reply, when entreated for the 
last time to solicit mercy, '' submit to the will of your country, 
and seek nothing further." It was too much for the old man ; 
when he retired he swooned in the arms of his attendants. His 
son again departed into exile, and was soon afterwards relieved 
by death. 



84 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



But severer trials awaited the aged father. He was opposed 
in all his plans, and finally deposed from his office by the Ten, 
who released him from the obligation of his oath. On the fifth 
day after his deposition, another was elected in his stead ; and 
when the dethroned Duke heard the announcement of his succes- 
sor, he ruptured a blood-vessel in the attempt to suppress his 
agitation, and died in a few hours. 

Loredano, one of the Ten, was the author of all this mischief. 
To revenge an injury, supposed to have been inflicted by the 
Foscari on his father, he had consecrated his life to the accom- 
plishment of his fell purpose. It is said that when the close of 
the mournful tragedy was announced to him, Loredano, who was 
engaged in commerce, like most of the Venetian nobles, took 
down one of his ledgers, and turned to a blank leaf. Opposite to 
that page was an entry in his own hand among his list of debtors : 
** Francesco Foscari, for the death of my father and uncle." On 
the other side he wrote : " He has paid me !"* 

The jurisdiction of the Ten was prompt and energetic ; their 
police, the most perfect in the world ! ]N"either innocence nor 
crime, neither power nor cunning could escape them, when bent 
upon the execution of their plans. A Frenchman of high rank 
was robbed in Venice, and had complained that the police 
were vigilant only as spies upon strangers. On leaving the city, 
his gondola was suddenly stopped. Inquiring the reason, the 
gondoliers pointed to a boat with a red flag that had just made 
them a signal. It arrived, and he was called on board : 

** You are the Prince de Craon ? Were you not robbed on 
Friday evening ?" 

"^ See Smedley's History of Venice, who has given a more accurate ac- 
count of this transaction than either Sismondi, Rogers pr Lord Byron. His 
principal authorities are Sanuto and Daru. 



VENICE. 85 



-I was." 

-Of what?" 

'' Of five hundred ducats." 

** And where were they ?" 

" In a green purse ?" 

** Do you suspect anybody ?" 

"I do ; a servant." 

" Would you know him again ?" 

'' Certainly." 

The questioner with his foot turned aside an old cloak that lay 
there, and the prince beheld his purse in the hand of a corpse ! 

"Take it, and remember, that none set their feet again in 
a country where they have presumed to doubt the wisdom of the 
government."* 

But the old Venetian Republic, State Council and Inquisition, 
have passed away forever. The government yielded to Napoleon 
without a blow, and after his downfall, Austria set her foot upon 
the proud and beautiful city. But the memory of the past burns 
in the heart of the people. They will never submit to despotism, 
and must be free once more. 

Pass into St. Mark's Place of an evening, and all seems life 
and pleasure. Gay and various costumes, illuminated coffee- 
houses, parties of pleasure, joyous conversation, and sprightly 
music, make the scene like one of fairy land. Can such a people 
long for independence ? Can they fight for freedom ? — have they 
strength to grasp it, and, above all, to keep it, in the face of glit- 
tering bayonets, of exile and death ? 

It is done ! All Italy, from Alps to Apennines, is in arms ! 
Freedom or death echoes from Turin to Naples. Old Rome is 
rising in her might. All Lombardy is rushing to the contest. 

* Rogers's Italy, Paris edition, p. 68. 



86 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Milan, after a bloody struggle, is free. The Austrians are re- 
treating toward the Alps !*" The cry of freedom rings along the 
canals of Venice, and the whole population rush in mass to the 
square of St. Mark, and vow to sacrifice their lives or the oppres- 
sors of their country. The Austrian authorities are struck dumb 
with astonishment at the new and startling attitude of the hitherto 
peaceable and pleasure-loving Venetians. The soldiers are called 
out, and an attempt made to awe the populace by a display of 
bristling bayonets. But this expedient only exasperates the crowd. 
Unarmed as they are, they become perfectly furious, tear up the 
pavement of the Place of St. Mark, with giant force break the 
stones to pieces, and hurl them, with unremitting energy, at their 
assailants. Several discharges of musketry follow this mad attack, 
and five ghastly bodies lie sweltering in their blood, and many 
wounded in the middle of the square. The infuriated people 
shout for arms, and at last Count Palffi, the civil orovernor, inca- 
pable of restraining the popular movement, summons- the Munici- 
pal Council, and gives order for the formation of a national guard, 
with the hope of preserving tranquillity. But the reverse follows, 
and the next day a successful attack is made upon the arsenal, 
which, after the death of the commanding officer, yields without 
a struggle. From that nv>iaent the victory is gained. Arms are 
distributed to the entire populace. The Austrian commanders, 
beholding the imposing spectacle from their palace windows, and 
terrified at the threatening aspect of the victorious crowd, instant- 
ly sign a capitulation, engaging that all the imperial troops, 
amounting to five thousand, shall immediately evacuate the city, 
and be sent back towards Vienna, and furthermore that the civil and 
military government of Austria in Venice has " ceased to exist.** 

* Alas ! much of this is already reversed. This, indeed, is but the first 
act of the drama. Let the reader pass on, and he will find the second and 
the third. 



VENICE. - 87 



The news spreads through the city like hghtning, and sends an 
electric thrill to every heart. The crowd rush, with Manini, a 
distinguished jurist, who had been imprisoned for his political 
opinions, to the Place of St. Mark, where, borne upon the shoul- 
ders of the people, this martyr for liberty proclaims that Venice 
■ is again a republic. With a voice like the rush of many waters, 
the people echo his words. Loud and prolonged cries of Viva 
San Marco ! Viva Repuhlica ! Viva Manini ! rend the air, and 
make the old cathedral shake with the mighty echo. 

The following day the tri-colored flag is consecrated, amid the 
vivas of the crowd and the benedictions of the priests. Con- 
gratulations are presented to the Consul of the United States, who, 
of course, partakes of the general enthusiasm, and the people shout. 
Viva il Consolo! Viva gli Stati Uniti ! Viva la gran Repuhlica ! 

This is the first act of the drama. The second is widely diff'er- 
ent. The Austrians have returned from the Alps, have repelled 
the Piedmontese army, and again taken possession of Milan! 
Prince Albert, with his fine speeches and lofty pretensions, has 
been driven back to Turin. The Italians, we fear, have been be- 
trayed. At all events, King Albert has proved himself incapable 
of achieving the freedom of Italy. He has pride enough, ambi- 
tion enough, but not high capacity and virtue. He is more con- 
cerned for his own kingly prerogatives and personal aggrandize- 
ment, than for all the freedom and glory in the world. 

It is well known that when Duke of Carignano, Charles Albert 
consorted with the Carbonari, and proclaimed himself a patriot. 
But he betrayed his too credulous companions, and gave indica- 
tions either of a vacillating or a mercenary spirit. He is said to 
be brave and hardy; and in the carnpaign of 1823 commanded, 
with success, a column of the French army, which broke up the 
Spanish liberals, and reinstated the King upon his throne. But 
he lacks stern integrity and self-sacrifice, without which, no man 



88 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



can achieve the freedom and independence of his country. He is 
more of a Borgia or a Castrucci, than a Tell or a Washington. 
Moreover, he is either bigoted himself, or ministers to the bigotry 
of his people with a view to their better government. For years 
he cherished the Jesuits. Recently, however, he has adopted the 
views of Gioberti, which, though liberal in some respects, look to 
Charles Albert's becoming the king of northern Italy,' and at the 
instance of his people he has banished the Jesuits. One of these 
days he may take them back again, and sacrifice to their vengeance 
the Constitution he has given his people. This indeed may be im- 
possible ; and King Albert may be compelled, by force of circum- 
stances, to pursue a liberal course. No one, however, need expect 
him to act from other than narrow and selfish motives. The Italian 
princes, as a general thing, have been a sorry set ; and we suspect 
Charles Albert is little better than his brethren. 

In resources, and in the power of endurance, Venice is weak, 
and if not supported by Piedmont and Lombardy, must fall again 
under the dominion of Austria. Long years of degradation have 
exhausted her energy. As to a permanent republic there, or in any 
other part of Italy, for the present, we fear we must give it up. 
It is one thing to make fine speeches, or even to achieve revolu- 
tions ; another to lay the foundations of a free and enduring com- 
monwealth. To attain that, knowledge, integrity and self-sacrifice 
are absoutely indispensable. 

We confess, then, that the second act of the drama is rather 
flat. The third, we hope, will be more spirited. 

" Order reigns in Warsaw.'' The Austrian " Leopard " has 
again placed her paw upon Lombardy. Notwithstanding the pro- 
gress of revolution, even in eastern Germany, the government of 
Vienna yields nothing with reference to her Italian possessions. 
Her influence there is increasing with every change. She promises 
a Ziiera? Constitution to Lombardy ; but will flot bate one **jotor 



VENICE. 89 



tittle" of her right of taxation and control. Charles Albert growls, 
but shrinks from responsibility — of course ! Gioberti, Azeglio, 
and the Turin patriots make speeches and write pamphlets, but 
accomplish little or nothing. Venice crouches in her sea-girt 
home, stunned and bewildered by the strange events through 
which she has passed. Pio ISTono, the Liberator of Italy, and 
the " hero of the nineteenth century," is at his wits' end, and 
trembles alike at the power of Austria and the spirit of revolu- 
tion. His subjects are in rebellion, and if not subdued by foreign 
intervention, will strip his Holiness of his temporal rule.^ The 
Grand Duke of Tuscany is doing the best he can to mind his own 
business, and steer his bark amid contending currents.f Ferdi- 
nand of Naples exults in the success of his cruel and despotic 
policy, and is thoroughly prepared to co-operate with Austria, or 
any other selfish government, to maintain '^ tranquillity" in Italy. 

Such is the third act of the drama, ^a^^^r even than the second, 
and without much apparent promise as to the future. 

But how long will this state of things last ? Surely the play, 
tragedy or comedy, we scarcely know which to call it, is not yet 
ended ! No, indeed ! A few days, a few years at least, will see 
the whole reversed. Italy is not yet dead. Exhausted and per- 
haps bound in chains, but alive and sensitive ; wounded and 
almost despairing, " but hoping against hope," and ready, when- 
ever the time comes, for htr great, her final, her successful strug- 
gle. God and the right will yet prevail. 

But it is only through much tribulation, that any State or peo- 
ple, as in the case of an mdividual, can enter into the possession 
of a true and lasting freedom. 

We rejoice to say, after waiting a short time, that a new phase 
in the history of the Venetian republic has just revealed itself. It 
seems that the annexation to Piedmont, voted by the General As- 

* They have done so. f He has fled from Tuscany. 



90 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



sembly, is annulled. The armistice, signed by Charles Albert, by 
which he resigned the Avhole of upper Italy to Austria, is vio- 
lently rejected by the Venetians, and the Republic is once more 
declared independent. Manini is again called to the head of the 
government, and the citizens are resolved to defend themselves to 
the last extremity. The Austrians have not yet been able to 
take the city. It is defended by the inhabitants with most de- 
voted bravery. Great sacrifices are made by rich and poor. The 
ladies abandon their costly dresses and jewels, the patricians and 
bankers their splendid furniture and plate, for the defense of the 
republic. ** I regret," said one of the most distinguished ladies 
of the city> *' I regret having no more, because I have nothing to 
give." All pay prodigious taxes without a murmur. All watch, 
night and day, arms in hand, upon the walls and in their ships. 
They are resolved to perish before yielding their city to the rapa- 
cious despotism of the Austrians. We cherish the liveliest hope, 
therefore, that the last and closing act of this smgular drama will 
be one of triumph and joy. 

We are disappointed. Venice once more succumbs to the 
power of her oppressors ; and thus ends for the present this too 
tragic drama. So we write, while our work is passing to a third 
edition. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Celebrated Venetians — Marco Polo — Pietro Bembo — Fra Paolo Sarpi — 
Titian — Tintoretto — Goldoni — Canova — Ochino or Ocello of Sienna — Spe- 
cimen of his preaching — Justification bj Faith. 

Venice is less distinguished in arts and literature than Florence 
and Rome. But it boasts many illustrious names, and is rich in 
the spoils of antiquity, and in the splendors of architecture and 
painting. Among its distinguished men, the names of Marco 
Polo, the celebrated traveller ; Pietro Bembo, cardinal, historian, 
and poet ; Fra Paolo, philosopher and divine ; Titian, Tintoretto, 
and Paul Veronese, eminent painters ; Canova, the sculptor ; Gol- 
doni, the father of Italian comedy, and others will occur to the 
intelligent reader. Here Petrarch spent a considerable portion 
of his time, much revered and loved by the Venetians ; and as a 
mark of his affection bequeathed his library to the city, vrhich, 
we regret to say, has been permitted to go to decay. Galileo also 
lived for some time in Venice, when professor of astronomy in the 
neighboring University of Padua, and made his celebrated lunar 
observations in the old tower of St. Mark. His telescope excited 
the amazement and curiosity of the people so much, that he was 
obliged to keep himself out of the way, to escape their pressing 
importunities. 

In those old churches, too, once preached the venerable and elo- 
quent Ocello of Sienna, a man of apostolic piety, great simplicity 
of manners, and rare oratorical powers. He was also one of the 



92 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



first Protestants in Italy, and exerted a wide-spread influence in 
favor of pure religion. Ugo Foscolo, of whom we have already 
spoken, belongs to Venice, but his long exile from his native 
country has identified him quite as much with Milan or London, 
as with Venice. 

A few words respecting these distinguished men ^vill conclude 
our notices of this ancient city, and beguile our journey to Fer- 
rara, where we propose to linger for a time, before reaching the 
capital of Tuscany, the far-famed and beautiful Florence. 

And, first of all, Marco Polo, with his majestic bearing and 
oriental dress, glides before us, joking pleasantly, and telling won- 
derful stories about Kublai Khan and the marvels of the far dis- 
tant East. This greatest traveller and story-teller of the thirteenth 
century was the son of a Venetian merchant, Nicolo Polo, who, 
with his brother Matteo, had penetrated to the court of the con- 
queror Kublai, the illustrious Khan of the Tartars, where they 
were received with great kindness and hospitality. Among other 
things, the Khan was so much pleased with their account of Eu- 
rope, that he made them his ambassadors to the Pope, on which 
they travelled back to Rome ; and, after some delay, returned once 
more to the Tartar court, taking with them two missionaries and 
young Marco, who, in consequence of his aptitude in the acquisi- 
tion of languages, graceful manners, and energetic character, be- 
came a great favorite with the Khan. He was employed on many 
important embassies, and traversed a large portion of Asia. Af- 
ter an absence of many years, and a series of singular adventures, 
he returned to Venice, and astonished his fellow- citizens by his 
great wealth, and his glowing descriptions of the wonders of ex- 
treme Asia. At their feasts and carnivals, among those most 
followed, was always a mask in a magnificent habit, relating mar- 
vellous adventures, and calling himself Messer Marco Millioni. 
This was the name given to Marco Polo by his fellow-citizens, on 



BEMBO. 93 



account of his immense wealth. His house was called La Corte 
del MilHoni, the palace of the rich man, or rather the millionaire, 
and was the frequent resort, during his life, of the curious and 
the learned. 

Marco Polo was engaged as commander of a Venetian vessel 
in the unfortunate action with Genoa, off Curzola, in the Adri- 
atic, where he was foremost in the attack, and, being wounded, 
was taken prisoner. To beguile the tediousness of four years' 
imprisonment, he committed his adventures to writing, in which 
he gives many startling descriptions, and strange incidents by 
flood and field, long doubted by the sceptical, but most of which 
have been singularly confirmed by succeeding travellers.* Hap- 
pily, the admiration he excited among the Genoese led to his 
release from prison ; but what became of him afterwards, history 
does not inform us. 

Pietro Bembo, subsequently the celebrated secretary and car- 
dinal at the court of Rome, whose touching sonnet on Italy we 
have already quoted, was born in Venice, in 1470, and died at 
Rome, loaded with honors, in 1547. He was a great connoisseur 
in the arts, a thorough Greek scholar, and a complete master of 
the niceties of his native tongue. He was familiar also with many 
sciences, and composed an elaborate history of Venice. During 
the early part of his life he resided in Venice, and became histo- 
riographer to the republic. 

Of courtly manners and great conversational powers, Bembo 
became the favorite of popes and princes, and having acquired 
much wealth, he passed a considerable portion of his time in 
literary recreations, in the study of antiquities, the collection of 

* We except, of course, his superstitious fancies, and some Sinbad stories 
which he heard from others. What he relates from his own observation 
may generally be relied on as true. 



94: GENIUS OF IT/iLY 



medals, and especially in the composition of poetry, in which he 
was supposed to excel all his contemporaries. Indeed Bembo 
was the Petrarch of his day, though far inferior to that master of 
the lyre in the flow of his numbers, and ■ especially in the depth 
and power of his aflfections. His style has beauty and elegance, 
but lacks originality and fire. 

In 1512, Bembo repaired to Rome with Giulio de Medici, whose 
brother. Pope Leo Tenth, made him his secretary, and where he 
lived in great refinement and splendor, " the admired of all ad- 
mirers." During the whole of his early life, and perhaps some- 
time afterwards, he was essentially epicurean in his tastes, and, 
like Leo Tenth, Sadaleto and other dignitaries of the Papal court, 
for long years pursued the enchantress Pleasure through all her 
mazy labyrinths.''^ Pope Paul the Third conferred upon him a 
cardinal's hat, from which time he renounced literature and the 
grosser forms of worldly pleasure, betaking himself to the study 
of the Fathers and the Holy Scriptures. 

Bembo did much to restore a pure Latin style. He also aided 
in the improvement and polish of his native tongue. He was so 
fastidious respecting style that he is said to have had forty dif- 
ferent partitions through which his compositions, as he polished 
them, successively passed. He published extensively in prose 
and verse. His poems appeared under the simple title of *' Le 
Rime," a collection of exquisite sonnets and canzonets, somewhat 
in the spirit and style of Petrarch, of whose elaborate polish 
Bembo was a studious and not unsuccessful imitator. The fol- 
lowing has a peculiar interest, as indicating his views of his early 
life. 



* He never abandoned the fair Morosina, with whom he had formed a 
connection in early hfe. But such things have been frequentlv allowed in 
the Papal court. 



BEMBO. 95 



TURNING TO GOD. 

' If, gracious God, in life's green ardent year, 

A thousand times thy patient love I tried ; 
With reckless heart, with conscience hard and sere. 

Thy gifts perverted and thy power defied ; 
O grant me, now that wint'ry snows appear 

Around my brow, and youth's bright promise hide- 
Grant me with reverential awe to hear 

Thy holy voice, and in thy word confide I 
Blot from my book of life its early stain ! 

Since days misspent will never more return, 
My future path do thou in mercy trace ; 

So cause my soul with pious zeal to burn. 
That all the trust, which in thy name I place, 
Frail as I am, may not prove wholly vain." 

The following has a soft and solemn beauty. 

DEATH. 
" From the stern monarch of dismay. 

Whom Nature trembles to survey — 

Death ! to me, the child of grief, 

Thy welcome power would bring relief. 
Changing to peaceful slumber many a care. 

And though thy stroke may thrill with pain 

Each throbbing pulse, each quivering vein ; 

The pangs that bid existence close. 

Ah ! sure, are far less keen than those 
Which cloud its lingering moments with despair.'* 

One of the most honest, earnest, and learned men of Venice, 
was Fra Paolo Sarpi ; Fra Paolo, as he is ordinarily termed, 
or as we should say. Father Paul, an ecclesiastic whose impartial 
history of the Council of Trent is well known, for its frank and 
fearless exhibition of the chicanery and intrigue which prevailed 
among the cardinals and bishops composing that famous body. 



96 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



He was the son of a merchant, born in Venice in 1552, and edu- 
cated for the church. In his twentieth year he entered a mo- 
nastic order, and was appointed chaplain to the Grand Duke of 
Mantua and lecturer on canon law. Returning to Venice, he was 
made provincial of his order, and subsequently procurator-general. 
He was accused of heresy, on the ground of a letter betrayed by 
a treacherous correspondent, in which he had observed that so far 
from courting the dignities of the church of Rome he held them 
in utter contempt. His liberal intercourse with distinguished 
Protestants tended to deepen the suspicion, so that he became an 
object of some fear and aversion to the Papal court, at that time 
sunk in venality and crime. A dispute between the Venetian 
government and the Pope, in which Fra Paolo took part on be- 
half of his country and the cause of freedom, .was the occasion of 
his being summoned to Rome, on pain of excommunication, to 
answer for his conduct ; but the matter was compromised. It did 
not, however, terminate here. During a visit which Sciopius, 
*' one of the most learned as well as impudent men of his time," 
paid to Venice, he informed Fra Paolo that he knew, by certain 
advice, how much the court of Rome desired either his arrest 
or assassination ; at the same time intimating to him, what was 
then well known, that the Popes have long arms. Fra Paolo re- 
plied that he had only defended a just cause, and that the Pontiff 
ought not to feel offended ; that he v/as specially included in " the 
public accomodation ;'' that he could not mistrust the word of a 
sovereign ; and moreover, that assassination on political grounds 
was rarely directed against the person of a private individual. 
** But if the worst happens," he added, " I am prepared for 
death. If however they should think to take me alive and carry 
me off to Rome, not all the power of the Pope can hinder a man 
from being more master of himself than others can be ; so thd;t 
my life will be more in my own keeping than in that of the 



TITIAN. 97 



Pontiff — a noble and striking reply, indicating tne genius and 
courage of the man. 

One night in the following October, when Fra Paolo was re- 
turning, at a late hour, to the Convent Dei Serveti, at that time 
his residence, he was suddenly attacked on the neighboring 
bridg e of Santa Fosca by five bravos, some of whom kept watch 
while the others fell upon their victim. Fifteen stabs were aimed 
at him, of which only three took effect ; two in the neck, and one 
on the cheek close to the nose, where the stiletto was turned 
aside by the bone and left in the wound. The assassins were seen 
to escape in a gondola, which conveyed them to the palace of the 
Papal nuncio, from which they passed over to Lido, and proceed- 
ed in a well-armed, ten-oared vessel in the direction of Ravenna. 
The life of Fra Paolo was long doubtful, but he bore his sufiFer- 
ings with the greatest patience and even cheerfulness, deprecating 
inquiry after the assassins, and even drawing smiles from his 
attendants by his good humor and occasional pleasantries. 

Father Paul wrote ably on speculative philosophy, and was 
the forerunner of Locke, many of whose ideas he suggested. He 
also wrote on optics and other subjects of natural science ; on 
the rights of the Church ; on benefices, and other topics of a 
kindred character. He was familiar with anatomy, and appears 
to have discovered the valves of the veins which aid in the circu- 
lation of the blood. He died in Yenice, in 1622, uttering the 
words Esto perpetua^ which have been construed as a prayer for 
the prosperity of his native country. 

Of Titian, the founder of the Venetian school of painting, and 
his successful pupil, Tinteretto, we have little to say. Their names 
and works are known throughout the world. Titian created an 
era in the art of painting, and although inferior in design to 
Michael Angelo, and in execution to Raffaele, is one of the im- 
mortal names of Italy. His designs are sometimes feeble, and 
5 



98 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



his angels too delicate and feminine. But in the soft beauty of 
his forms, and the mellow splendor of his coloring, he stands pre- 
eminent. In personal character and in the style of his painting, 
Titian was too much of a voluptuary. Hence his female figures^ 
his Venuses and Magdalenes, though delicate as houris, possess 
little ideal beauty, none of that purity or grandeur of expression 
so conspicuous in those of RafFaele and Domenichino. Titian 
died in the great plague of 1576, at the venerable age of ninety- 
six. He was a great favorite of the Venetians, and aided with 
Tintoretto, Paul Veronese, and others, in adorning and beautifying 
their capital. 

Of Goldoni, who was born in lYC? and died in 1793, it is suffi- 
cient to say, that he was the greatest writer of comedy in the 
Italian language. He reformed the drama, which certainly is 
high praise, and was distinguished by fertility of invention, great 
dramatic vigor, and beauty of style. His life was restless and 
changeable, and frequently not quite reputable. His plays are 
loose in their moral tone, and abound in love intrigues ; but they 
are said to be a vast improvement on those which preceded them. 

Canova, one of the greatest sculptors of modern times, was 
born at Possagno in the Venetian territory. He first displayed 
his peculiar genius, when only twelve years of age, by modelling 
the figure of a lion in butter, which was placed on the table of 
Faliere, the seigneur of the palace. This led to his being placed 
as an apprentice with a sculptor in Bassano, and afterwards in 
the academy at Venice. His success at first was slow and 
gradual ; for his genius developed itself only by degrees, and 
through the influence of much culture and discipline. The fine 
attitude and classic finish of his Theseus, and the extreme beauty 
of his Cupid and Psyche, stamped his fame as one of the great 
and original sculptors of the age. His style is not majestic and 
striking, like that of Michael Angelo, but soft and singularly beau- 



OCELLO. 99 



tiful. It has an ideal grace which charms alike the philosopher 
and the peasant. His tomb for Alfieri, in Florence, is exceeding- 
ly chaste and striking, and, as they were personal friends, is a 
charming link in their history. The name of Canova was inscrib- 
ed by Pius Seventh in the *' Golden Book of the Capitol," who 
also made him Marquis of Ischia, with a handsome pension. As 
a man, Canova was remarkable for his amiable temper and 
benevolent disposition. His opinion of himself was modest, and 
his appreciation of others cordial and generous. His last work 
was a large group, in which religion is represented as victorious. 
He died in Venice in 1802, loved and venerated by all. 

We have mentioned the name of cello of Sienna, as one of the 
most eloquent preachers of his day. He was contemporary with 
Bembo, and enjoyed the esteem and affection of that gifted man. 
'' He discourses," says the latter, writing to Vittoria Colonna, the 
celebrated Marchioness of Pescara, at whose solicitation Ocello 
had visited Venice, *' in a very different and more Christian style, 
than any other that has mounted the pulpit in my day, and, with 
more hvely charity and love, brings forth truth of superior excel- 
lence and usefulness." Again, he says : " There is not a man or 
woman in the city who does not extol him to the skies. 0, what 
pleasure, what delight, what joy he has given !" Little did the 
courtly and too worldly cardinal know, that in all this lay the 
seeds of that Protestantism which he aided to persecute and ex- 
tinguish. 

Bernardino Ochino, for that was his real name — the other, we 
presume, being his ecclesiastical one — was born in Sienna, and 
educated as a monk. He was not distinguished for learning, but 
possessed a commanding person, powerful emotions, and an extra- 
ordinary force of eloquence. When advanced in years, his hair 
was white as the driven snow, and his beard, of the same color, 
flowed down to his girdle. His voice too, perfectly under com- 



100 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



mand, had a clear, powerful and ringing tone. With a pale face, 
and dark, penetrating eyes, his aspect was exceedingly venerable 
and striking. He preached in Naples, Venice and other places. 
The sanctity of his life added to the force of his words ; and he was 
appointed general of his order. His pilpularity was unbounded, 
and it was acknowledged on all hands that he was the greatest 
preacher in Italy. But he long struggled with his convictions, 
endeavoring to gain peace of mind by merits and penance. At 
last he found rest in the great doctrine of justification by faith, 
and preached it long before his Protestantism was discovered. 
At last he was indicted for heretical opinions, and his death re- 
solved on ; in consequence of which he fled to Ferrara, and thence 
to Geneva. His defection from the Papal church was a matter 
of infinite regret to many. '' Ah, Bernardino !" exclaims his 
former friend, CarafFa, " how great wert thou in the eyes of all 
men ! how beautiful and fair ! Thy coarse but sacred cap, ex- 
celled the cardinal's hat, and the pope's mitre ; thy mean dress, 
the most gorgeous apparel ; thy bed of wattles, the softest and 
most delicious couch ; thy deep poverty, the riches of the world. 
Thou wert the herald of the Highest, the trumpet sounding far 
and wide ; thou wert full of wisdom and adorned with knowledge ;* 
the Lord placed thee in the garden of Eden, in his holy mount, 
as a light above the candlestick, as the sun of the people, as a 
pillar in his temple, as a watchman in his vineyard, as a shepherd 
to feed his flock. "Still thy eloquent discourses sound in our ears ; 
still we see thy unshodden feet !'' He then goes on to mourn his 
defection, intimating that some demon must have taken possession 
of the holy Bernardino, " like the reprobate King of Israel of old." 
But Ochino was rejoicing in the God of his salvation, and went 
everywhere, in Geneva, Augsburg, Basel and other cities, preach- 
ing the word to his countrymen resident in those places. He 
went with Peter Martyr, another Italian Protestant, an exile from 



OCELLO. 101 



home, to England, and thence returned with him to Germany ; 
the one settling at Strasburg, and the other at Zurich, where he 
succeeded Beccario as pastor of the exiled Locarnese. 

Having adopted some peculiar views on the subject of the 
Trinity, he was banished from the city by the council of Zurich — 
an act of gross injustice and persecution. At the age of seventy- 
six he departed thence with his four little children, in the depth 
of winter. He went first to Basel, and thence to Moravia in Ger- 
many, and, in the year 1564, died in Slacovia, having previously 
lost a daughter and two sons by the plague, which was then 
raging in that place. Notwithstanding his Arian sentiments, he 
was a good man, full of faith ; full also of that divine energy which 
is the soul of all true eloquence. Celio Secundo Curio, another 
Italian preacher and scholar, the friend of Olympia Morata, and 
one of the most devout and energetic of the Italian Protestants, 
who fled for his life from his native country, and settled in Basel, 
in Switzerland, has left a Latin translation of a sermon by Ochino, 
on justification by faith. This has all the clearness and point of 
some of Luther's discourses on the same subject, the great key- 
note of the Reformation, and ''the test of a rising or a falling 
church/' A brief extract from this discourse will doubtless 
interest our readers, as a specimen of Italian preaching in the 
sixteenth century, such as Yittoria Colonna and Olympia Morata 
loved to hear. 

" There is a law," says he, " or rather custom, in certain cities 
and districts, that in the last week of Lent, which they call the 
Great or Holy Week, a certain number of malefactors and pris- 
oners are liberated without any punishment, fine, or restitution 
on their own part, but solely from the mercy of their sovereign. 
Now, though in mentioning this custom, whil6 I praise the clem- 
ency, I blame the superstition which has given rise to it ; yet it 
very appropriately represents to us the goodness of God. For 



102 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



even as these criminals are freed without any exertion or attempt 
on their part, and not only undeserving of the kindness, but wor- 
thy of severe punishment ; so we are preserved by the mercy of 
God, through the mediation of Jesus Christ. 

" Do you wish to know how this is brought about ? Look to 
the thief who was affixed to the accursed tree along with Christ; 
and tell me, I pray you, what good did he ever do, that he should 
hear from Christ these words : ' This day shalt thou be with me 
in Paradise !' You say, perhaps, * he suffered stripes, tortures, 
and the cross.' I answer, ' he deserved all these on account of 
his crimes, and not these only, but greater, eternal death.' For 
though by these sufferings he might atone the breach of human 
laws, were he to die a thousand times he could not give satisfac- 
tion to Divine justice. And if you should say, that the thief 
was saved by a miracle, or by some singular privilege, I will tell 
you that it is by an equal miracle, and by the singular mercy of 
God, that any will be saved ; and if they are saved, as all men 
are of the same nature, it must be through grace. For by na- 
ture we are all liable to eternal perdition, and, as St. Paul says, 
* to the wrath of the Son.' 

*' But God, who is rich in mercy, ' before the creation of the 
world elected whom he chose to be saved in Christ ; and those 
whom he elected he also called, and whom he called he also jus- 
tified and glorified.' These words are not mine, but the Apostle 
Paul's, the teacher of the Gentiles. So our justification, salva- 
tion, and blessedness have their sole foundation in Christ — not 
partly in Christ, and partly in ourselves. Whence Paul teaches 
the Corinthians, that ^no man can lay other foundation than that 
which is laid, namely, Jesus Christ ;' and those who ground their 
salvation on any other thing are foolish and ignorant of divine 
truth, and resemble those who build their house not upon the 
solid rock, but upon the quicksands, which the force of the winds 
and waves will destroy." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Ferrara — Its Past and Present Condition— The Days of Duke Borso — Fer- 
rara the Asylum of Literary Men — Its Distinction in Literature — Duke 
Alphonso and his Sisters — Ariosto — Sketch of his Life — Orlando Furio- 
80 — Specimens of his Poetry. 

In a wide and desolate plain, a few miles from the river Po, lies 
Ferrara, once the magnificent and polished capital of the ancient 
duchy of that name, but now a faded and melancholy town, 
whose grass -grown streets and crumbling palaces give back the 
echoes of the stranger's foot, as, in sombre mood, he traverses its 
smooth-flagged pavements. Once it contained a hundred thousand 
inhabitants, and was the scene of commercial activity, of literary 
and military splendor. Now it can scarcely boast the fourth part 
of its former population, and looks deserted and woe-begone. 
Under Papal dominion it has suffered a sad decline, and is seldom 
nsited, except by the lovers of antiquity, and the admirers of the 
genius of Ariosto and Tasso. The principal streets are spacious 
and handsome, adorned with superb old palaces, whose fronts 
extend on either side, as far as the eye can reach, with arched 
gateways below, and proud cornices above. Long, narrow streets 
are found in other parts of the city ; but in these the grass grows 
rank, and all is silent and desolate. Monasteries and convents 
open into them ; but no bell is heard from the towers, no monk 
is seen at the gate, no beggar even lying under the wall. The 
court-yards are desolate ; no horsemen, " unbonneted and rib- 



104 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



boned/* are dashing through the streets ; and no beautiful eyes 
are glancing from the balcbnies. 

But here you may yet see the old ducal palace, where the 
Duke Alphonso and his noble sisters listened to the strains of 
Ariosto, standing all alone, " moated and flanked with towers, in 
the heart of the subjugated town, like a tyrant intrenched among 
slaves." Here also you may visit the house of Ariosto, where 
he cultivated his garden, and dreamed of haunted castles, love- 
lorn knights, beautiful maidens and Eden bowers. Moreover, 
you may see, in the public museum or library, his arm-chair, auto- 
graph, and inkstand, a manuscript of the Orlando Furioso — nay, 
his very tomb, so venerated by the Ferrarese, and so dear to all 
lovers of Italian song. Ariosto was buried in the church of the 
Benedictines, and '' it is a curious fact, that the bust on his tomb, 
being struck by lightning towards the middle of the last century, 
the iron laurels that wreathed the brows of the poet were melted." 
To this circumstance Lord Byron has alluded, in the following 
well-known lines: 

" The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust 
The iron crown of laurel's mimicked leaves — 
Nor was the ominous element unjust, 
For the true laurel wreath which genius weaves, 
Is of the tree no bolt of thunder cleaves ; 
And the false semblance but disgraced his brow. 
Yet still, if fondly superstition grieves, 
Know that the lightning sanctifies below 
Whate'er it strikes ; yon head is doubly sacred now." 

In Ferrara, too, is shown a small cell in the lunatic hospital of 
Santa Anna, lighted by a grated window, where Tasso was con- 
fined for a time, through the ill-judged severity of the Duke 
Alphonso, and in which he wrote some of the most beautiful and 



FERRARA. 105 



touching letters and poems that have ever issued from a prison. 
What, for example, can be more affecting than the following, 
addressed to his friend, Scipio Gonzaga ? 

" Sure, pity, Scipio, on earth has fled 

From royal breasts to seek abode in heaven ; 
For if she were not banished, scorned, or dead, 

Would not some ear to my complaints be given ? 

Is noble faith at pleasure to be riven, 
Though freely pledged that I had naught to dread, 

And I, by endless outrage to be driven 
To worse than death — the death-like life I've led ? 

For this is of the quick a grave ; and here 
Am I, a living, breathing corpse, interred, 

To go not forth till prisoned in my bier. 
O earth ! heaven I if love and truth are heard. 

Or honor, fame and virtue worth a tear, 
Let not my prayer be fruitless or deferred." 

But we forget the present. The strains of Ariosto, Tasso, and 
Guarini are in our ears. Ferrara is herself again ! Its wide and 
handsome streets are filled with cavahers, as in the days of Borso, 
or of his descendants, Alphonso and Ercolo. Rich tapestries a.re 
hanging from the balconies, crowded with fair forms ; proud cav- 
ahers are prancing through the streets ; busy throngs are tripping 
along the pavements, and a confused murmur, mingled with mar- 
tial music, is heard in the grand piazza, where stand bronze 
monuments of two of the most illustrious Dukes of Ferrara. 

Frederick the Third, on his way to Rome, has been invited by 
Borso to visit the city ; and for a whole week is treated there 
magnificently, with all his train, consisting of two thousand per- 
sons. The Emperor, wonderfully taken with the noble nature of 
his entertainer, as an old chronicler informs us, is resolved to 
advance him to the dignity of Duke, which, on his return from 
5* 



106 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



the Eternal City, is accomplished in the following manner. A 
large theatre being erected in the centre of the piazza before the 
palace, and upon it a throne of cloth of gold, the Emperor, in his 
imperial robes, with the crown which the Pope had placed on 
his head a few days before, comes thither, takes his seat on his 
throne, with the King of Hungary on the one side, and the 
Duke of Austria on the other, besides many German princes 
placed according to their quality. Borso, richly apparelled and 
attended by four hundred gentlemen, dressed in the same man- 
ner, rides from the old castle to the piazza, with streaming banners 
and nodding plumes. Kneeling before the throne, the ducal 
robes are put upon him by the Emperor, who invests him with his 
various titles, as the Duke of Mondena, Earl of Rovigo, and so forth, 
placing in his hand a naked sword, as a badge of his absolute 
authority, and then making him sit down by the King of Hungary. 

That Borso well deserved this honor is conceded by all, " for in . 
truth he was a just, splendid and bountiful prince.'^ 

Under his administration, and that of his more immediate 
descendants, Ferrara increased in wealth and refinement. It was 
the asylum of learned men from all quarters of the world. 
Thither, as well as to Florence, came those distinguished Greeks, 
who first introduced into Italy the learning and polish of the 
ancient schools. There some of the most distinguished Italian 
poets found an asylum and a home, and, except in the case of the 
unfortunate Tasso, furnish evidence of the wisdom and liberality of 
its dukes. '' The Court," says an old writer, already quoted, " was 
an epitome of all that was fine or great in France, Germany or 
Italy.'' Princes came long journeys on purpose to see it ; and, by 
all their confessions, " though some courts might be greater, yet 
none in other respects come near that of Ferrara." The whole 
city resembled " a great university," academies being everywhere 
erected for painting, music, poetry and mathematics. 



ARIOSTO. 107 



The Duke Alplionso and his sisters were fond ol poetry, or at 
least claimed to be so ; and we can well imagine, taking the hint 
from Ginguene, that Ariosto came to the ducal palace of an evening, 
and read the Orlando Furioso for their entertainment. We are 
not certain, indeed, that this ever literally took place, but the 
whole of Ariosto 's poem was written under the supposition that 
he had such a circle for his listeners. The poet, we are informed, 
was tall and stout, with a dark complexion, lofty forehead, black 
curling hair, thick clustering beard, aquiline nose, and dark 
bright eyes. His shoulders were broad and stooped a little ; his 
countenance thoughtful and benignant, with a slight gleam of 
roguery in his dark eyes, and sometimes a playful smile upon his 
genial mouth, half hidden by his exuberant beard. He was often 
to be seen in his garden, or sauntering about the city and the 
neighboring fields. Nature ever wooed him to her bosom. He 
loved long rambles among the trees and streams. But he was 
never happier than when rapt in the visions of " fairy land," in 
imagination rehearsing his wild and irregular, but beautiful crea- 
tions to the ducal circle. In this noble and festive assembly, says 
Ginguene, in his Histoire Litteraire d'ltalie, '' You must imagine 
the bard to be rivetting all eyes and ears during an hour or more, 
for forty-six evenings. The first day he proposes his subject ; 
he addresses himself to the Cardinal, his patron ; he promises to 
celebrate the origin of his illustrious race ; he commences the re- 
cital ; but as soon as he thinks the attention of his audience may 
be wearied, he stops, saying that what remains to be told is re- 
served for another canto. The next day the party again assem- 
ble, and wait with impatience the appearance of the poet ; he 
enters, and after some short reflections on the capriciousness of 
love, resumes the thread of his story. The third day he changes 
his tone and method, and consecrates this period of his song to 
predicting the glory of the bouse of Este. Having completed his 



108 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



complimentary stanzas, he ceases, and, as usual, promises to renew 
the recital in another canto, sometimes adding, ' If it be agree- 
able to you to hear this story ;' or, ' You will hear the rest in 
another canto, if you come again to hear me.' He found these 
forms established by the custom of the oldest romantic poets ; he 
considered them natural and convenient for his purpose, and he 
borrowed them. Like these his predecessors, he also avoids los- 
ing sight of his audience, even in the course of his recital. He 
addresses himself to the princes who might be presiding at the 
meeting, and to the ladies who graced it by their presence ; not 
unfrequently apologizing, when he told some incident which seem- 
ed incredible, with such words as these : ' This is very wonderful ; 
you believe it not ; but I do not say it of myself, but, Turpin 
having put it into his history, I put it into mine.' Place yourself 
in this point of view ; seat yourself in the midst of that attentive 
assembly ; attend, join in its admiration of that fertile genius — 
that inimitable story-teller — that adroit courtier — that sublime 
poet ; stop when he stops ; suffer yourself to wander, to be ele- 
vated, to be inflamed, as he does himself; lay aside the too 
severe taste which might diminish your pleasure. Hear Ariosto, 
above all, in his own language ; study his niceties ; learn to per- 
ceive their grace, their force, their harmony ; and you will then 
know what to think of the atrabihous critics who have dared to 
treat unjustly so true and great a genius." 

Ariosto was born inReggio, in 1474, the oldest of ten children, 
five sons and five daughters. He gave indications of poetical 
talent at an early age, but his father wished him to study law, 
from which he recoiled with abhorrence. This being abandoned, 
he led an unrestrained and cheerful life, for the next four or five 
years, divided between study and poetry. Some of his happiest 
days were spent at a villa, called La Mauriziana, near Reggio. 
Years after, when leading a less simple, and perhaps a less inno- 



ARIOSTO. 109 



cent life, he recalled, with sighs, the pleasant spots which fired 
him with the inspiration of poetry — the garden, the little river, the 
mill, the trees by the water-side, and all the other quiet and 
shady places in which he enjoyed himself in his early prime. 

In his twenty-first year he lost his father, and found himself 
with a large family left on his hands, in narrow circumstances. 
The charge was heavy, and at times he wished to die. But he 
struggled manfully with his difficulties, and finally overcame them. 

In 1504 he entered the service of the heartless, though talent- 
ed prince. Cardinal Ippolito, brother of Duke Alphonso, of Fer-" 
rara. The situation was by no means an enviable one, though 
many regarded it as such at the time, and Ariosto was tolerably 
content with it, at least for a season. Amid his multifarious en- 
gagements, he found time to write his great poem, which was 
under his care for a number of years. It was placed in the hands 
of the Cardinal, to whom it was dedicated, who, turning to Ariosto 
quickly, exclaimed, with an oath, " Where, Master Ludovick, 
have you picked up such a parcel of trumpery V^ which, in all 
probabihty, stung the poet to the quick, for not long after they 
came to a rupture. 

Previous to this he had privately married Alessandra Ben- 
nuci, the widow of one of the Strozzi family, a lady of much 
beauty, good temper and agreeable manners. She had, to qu€>te 
the language of Ariosto himself, '' a serene forehead,'' and *' gold- 
en tresses.'' With this lady he lived in the enjoyment of much do- 
mestic happiness, though, like too many of his countrymen, 
somewhat unfaithful to the marriage vow. Indeed, his marriage 
was never legally acknowledged, for at the time he was in posses- 
sion of some church-benefices, which he could not hold as a 
married man. *' This is one of the falsehoods," says Leigh Hunt, 
" which the Roman Catholic religion thinks itself warranted in 
tempting honest men to fall into ; thus perplexing their faith as 



no GENIUS OF iPALY. 



to the roots of all faith, and tending to maintain a sensual hy- 
pocrisy, which can do no good to the strongest minds, and must 
terribly injure the weak." 

He entered the Duke's service in the year 1518, and remained 
in it during the rest of his life. The Orlando Furioso had at first 
a limited sale, and struggled for popularity, which it finally se- 
cured, in an unbounded degree. Its splendor and richness of 
conception, and marvellously skillful narrative, made it a universal 
favorite, especially in Italy. Bernardo Tasso, in a letter to Var- 
► chi, written in 1559, says, "There is neither scholar, nor artisan, 
nor boy, nor girl, nor old man, who is content to read it only once. 
Are not those stanzas of his the comfort of the exhausted traveller 
on his weary journey, who relieves the cold and the fatigue by 
singing them on his way ? Do you not hear people singing them 
every day — singing them in the streets and in the fields ? I do 
not believe that, in the same length of time as has passed since 
that most learned gentleman gave his poem to the world, there 
have been printed or seen so many Homers, or Virgils, or 
Furiosos.'^ 

While Ariosto was governor of a wild district, which he as- 
sisted to reduce to order, he was riding out one day, with a few 
attendants, som^ say walking out in a musing fit, when all at 
oi\pe he found himself in the midst of a band of outlaws, who 
in a suspicious manner barely suffered him to pass. But the 
leader of the band, discovering who he was, came riding back, 
with much earnestness, and, bowing low to the poet, said that he 
never should have allowed him to pass in that manner, had he 
known him to be Signor Ludovico Ariosto, author of the Orlando 
Furioso ; and that his men and himself, so far from doing the 
Signor displeasure, would have the honor of conducting him 
back to his castle. And this they did, entertaining him all the 
way with the various beauties they had discerned in his poem, 



ARIOSTO. Ill 



and bestowing upon it the most rapturous praises — " a rare proof," 
says Baretti, ''of the irresistible powers of poetry/' 

But Ariosto best loved his home in Ferrara. His small house 
suited his turn of mind ; and there, in the correction of his poem, 
and other congenial employments, such as gardening, he spent 
many happy days. The manuscript of his poem in the Fer- 
rarese library contains abundant proof of elaborate correction and 
and polish, proving, what some are slow to believe, that labor is 
as essential to true genius, as genius is to successful labor. He 
possessed a fine ear, and was somewhat sensitive to the manner 
in which his poem was read. Upon this subject Sir John Har- 
rington tells the following anecdote : 'Coming one day by a pot- 
ter's shop, that had many earthen vessels ready made to sell on 
his stall, the potter fortuned, at that time, to sing some stave or 
other out of the Orlando Furioso. But he plotted the verses out 
so ill-favoredly, (as might well beseem his dirty occupation,) that 
Ariosto being, or at least making semblance to be in a great rage 
withal, with a little walking-stick he had in his hand brake divers 
pots. The poor potter, put quite beside his song, and almost 
beside himself, to see his market half marred before it was quar- 
ter done, in a pitiful, sour manner, between railing and whining, 
asked what he meant, to wrong a poor man that had never done 
him an injury in his life. " Yes, varlet," quoth Ariosto, " I a»m 
scarce even with thee for the wrong thou hast done me here be- 
fore my face ; for I have broken but half a dozen base pots of 
thine, that are not worth so many' half-pence,; but thou hast 
broken and mAgledafine stanza of mine, worth a mark of gold."* 

Ariosto was of an easy, good-natured turn. Somebody won- 
dering how he could content himself with so small an abode, when 
he built such magnificent mansions in his poetry, he replied, that 
it was easier to put words together than blocks of stone. He did 
not care to travel out of Italy. He preferred, he says, going 



112 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



round the earth in a map ; visiting countries, without having to 
pay inn 'keepers, and ploughing harmless seas, without thunder 
and lightning. In an age when popes, cardinals and bishops 
lived in greater splendor, and often with greater dissoluteness 
than the men of the world ; when Pope Leo Tenth cared more for 
a medal or a statue than for the word of God, or the purity of 
the church ; when Cardinal Ippolito was guilty of gross debauche- 
ry, and even cruelty, and the courtly Bembo exhorted Ariosto 
not to be too scrupulous respecting the infidelities of his female 
friends, it will not be surprising if the poet was somewhat indif- 
ferent to religion, or made a jest of the Church and its dignita- 
ries. His outward religion, it has been remarked, like that which 
he ascribed to his friend, Cardinal Bembo, " was that of other 
people." He was not precisely a sceptic ; and he had a great 
horror of bigotry and hypocrisy. Doubtless he possessed trans- 
cendent genius ; though some would say, and say justly, that it 
was not exerted upon objects worthy of a great man. After 
protracted sickness and suffering, he died, worn away to a skele- 
ton, in June, 1533, at the age of fifty-eight. His body was taken, 
according to his own directions, by four men, during the night, to 
the church of the Benedictines, and buried there without much 
ceremony. The monks followed it to the grave, out of respect, 
contrary to their usual custom. 

The Orlando Furioso is simply a continuation of Boiardo's 
poem of Orlando Innamorata, which consists of wild and gor- 
geous legends, borrowed from the Fablicists and Troubadours of 
Provence, who sang the glories of Charlemagne, and the pleasures 
of love and chivalry. This rude poem of Boiardo's, who was o'f 
an illustrious family in Lombardy, was rewritten in fine Tuscan 
style by Berni, no mean poet, and became one of the greatest 
favorites in Italy. Ariosto takes it up, and carries it through a 
long succession of intricate, unconnected, but picturesque and 



ARIOSTO. 113 



vivacious stories, interspersed with ricli aad lively descriptions, 
which gleam through the whole, like the light of an Italian sky 
among the mountain ranges of the Apennines. Its plots and 
incidents are numberless, and often extravagant and absurd ; so 
that the reader is hurried on from point to point, finding no end, 

** In wandering mazes lost." 

But every thing is painted by the hand of a master, and the 
style is remarkable for ease, elegance and vigor. It has all the 
freshness and beauty of a summer morning, bathed in sunhght 
and dew. The Orlando doubtless has many faults, and to most 
readers is all but intolerable on account of its length and intricacy. 
Its licentiousness is its greatc^st blemish ; but in this respect it 
only mirrors the manners of the times, and throws a painful light 
upon the dissoluteness of Italian society. Its originality, too, has 
frequently been questioned ; and doubtless this consists rather in 
the form than in the substance of the poem ; in the force and 
beauty of the expression, than in the grandeur and consistency of 
the plan. Yet most critics concede to Ariosto a large amount of 
invention. Leigh Hunt is a perfect worshipper of his genius. 
" Ariosto,'' says the Foreign Quarterly Review, " may be justly 
considered the most inventive and original of poets ; yet, strip 
him of all he has collected in a thousand parts, and made his own 
by skillful appropriation, and what will remain even of him ! He 
takes a story out of a fabliau, varies it, adds dramatis personoi 
from Apuleius, supphes them with sentiments from Ovid, and 
here and there intersperses his own beautiful stanzas with verses 
tolte da peso, as the Italians phrase it, that is, taken boldly out of 
Dante and Petrarch. He does, in short, what every good poet, 
whose operations we are able to trace, has done ; and it is a most 
curious point to ascertain what is that quaUty which we call 



114 GENIUS OF ITALY. 

invention, and to prove how almost entirely made up of borrowed 
parts is that which may be designated original as a whole." 
Which is as much as to say, if you plagiarize handsomely, and 
really give indications of original power in other parts of your 
poem, you may pass for a great inventive genius as a whole. 
This, in our humble judgment, is a little too generous, and places 
at great disadvantage those honest fellows, poets and others, who 
feel bound to indicate their extracts from others by quotation 
marks. 

But, with all its drawbacks, the Orlando Furioso has an exhaust- 
less charm in the limpid clearness, raciness and beauty of the 
style ; in the natural glow of life and joy pervading the whole ; in 
the facility, force and elegance of the narrative ; and in those 
inimitable pictures of Nature which every where appear in it, like 
" apples of gold in pictures of silver.'"^ Of course it wants the 
purity and grandeur of Milton, the terror and energy of Dante ; 
but it has much of the life, versatility, force and vivacity of 
Shakspeare and Goldoni. We ought, however, never to shut our 
eyes to Ariosto's licentious tendencies, the greatest fault in Italian 
literature. ** His conceptions," says Prescott, with fine discrimina- 
tion, '' were of the earth ; and his pure style, which may be com- 
pared, with Alcina's transparent arapery, too often reveals to us 
the grossest impurity of thought."! With this abatement — a 
heavy one, it is true — we may allow the justice of Leigh Hunt's 
splendid rhapsody. *' The great charm of the Orlando Furioso," 
says he, *' is not in its knight-errantry, or its main plot, or the 
cunning interweavement of its minor ones, but in its endless 
variety, truth, force and animal spirits ; in its fidelity to actual 
nature, while it keeps within the bounds of the probable ; and its 
no less enchanting verisimilitude during its wildest sallies of 

* Original, " Citrons of gold in baskets of feilver." 
f Miscellanies, by William Prescott. 



ARIOSTO. 115 



imagination. At one moment we are in the midst of flesh and 
blood like ourselves ; at the next, with fairies and goblins ; at the 
next, in a tremendous battle or tempest ; then in one of the love- 
Hest of solitudes ; then hearing a tragedy, then a comedy ; then 
mystified in some enchanted palace ; then riding, dancing, dining, 
looking at pictures ; then again descending to the depths of the 
the earth, or soaring to the moon, or seeing lovers in a glade, or 
witnessing the extravagances of the great, jealous hero, Orlando ; 
and the music of an enchanting style perpetually attends us, and 
the sweet face of Angehca glances here and there like a bud ; 
and there are gallantries of all kinds, and stories endless, and 
honest tears, and joyous bursts of laughter, and beardings for all 
base opinions, and no bigotry, and reverence for whatsoever is 
venerable, and candor exquisite, and the happy interwoven names 
of Angehca and Medora, young forever.'^* 

As a specimen of Ariosto^s descriptive powers, and of the 
beauty, harmony and splendor of his style, vf e give the following 
from the Capitoli Amorosi, requesting the reader to make due 
allowance, as in all similar instances, for the diminished force and 
beauty of a translation. 

THE LAUREL. 

In that sweet season, when 'twas springtime still, 

A laurel slip I set with careful hand ; 
On a small plain half up an easy hill. 

Fortune smiled on it ; the bright air was bland ; 
" The sun upon it shone benignly too, 

Both from the Indian and the Moorish strand. 
Refreshing streams with patient zeal I drew 

To where it stood, their grassy banks between, > 

And brought to it the earth, from which it grew. 

It faded not — its leaves a cheerful green 

* Life and Genius of Ariosto. 



116 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Still wore ; and, to reward my care and toil, 

It took new root, and soon fresh buds were seen. 
Nor nature strove my earnest hopes to foil, • 

But breathed benignant on my rising tree, 
Which seemed to flourish in a genial soil. 

Sweet, lonely, faithful bowers it made for me. 
Within whose shades I poured my plaints of love 

From my fond heart, while none could hear or see. 
Yenus ofttimes forsook her seat above 

And Cytherean fanes, where odors sweet 
Of gums and rich Sabean spices strove. 

The rose-linked Graces on this spot to meet ; 
And while the loves above them plied the wing, 

Danced round my laurel with unwearied feet. 
Thither Diana her bright nymphs would bring ; 

For she preferred my laurel to all those 
That in the woods of Erymanthus spring. 

Other fair deities its shadows chose. 
To spend the sultry day in cool delight ; 

Blessing the hand that placed it where it rose. 
Whence came the early tempest thus to blight 

My tree so loved ? And whence the pinching cold 
That covered it with snows untimely white ? 

Ah why did Heaven its favoring smile withhold ? 
My laurel drooped ; its foliage green was reft ; 

A bare bleak trunk it rose from barren mold ! 
Still one small branch, with few pale leaves is left ; 

And between hope and fear I still exist. 
Lest even of that rude winter should make theft. 

Yet fear prevails ; hope is well nigh dismissed— 
That icy frosts, not yet I fear me o'er ; 

This last and weakly spray should not resist. 
And are there none to teach me how, before 

The sickly root itself is quite decayed. 
Its former vigorous life I may restore ? 

Phoebus, by whom the heavenly signs are swayed, 
By whom in Thessaly a laurel crown 



ARIOSTO. 117 



So oft was borne, now lend this tree thine aid ! 
Vertumnus and Pomona, both look down, 

Bacchus, Njmphs, Satyrs, Fauns and Dryads fair! 
On this, my tree, o'er which the Seasons frown ! 

And all ye deities, that have in care 
The woods and forests, bend a favoring eye 

Towards my laurel ! I its fate must share ; 
Living, I live with it, or dying, die I" 

The Italian poets, especially the more ancient, love, more than 
all others, unless it be the Hebrews and the Arabians, bold alle- 
gories and emblematic figures. The laurel to which Ariosto re- 
fers, might be a child, a friend, a lover, as the fancy might dic- 
tate. In Dante especially, and also in Tasso, emblematic figures 
and allegories play a conspicuous part. The whole of the Geru- 
salemme, and, we are inclined to think, the Divina Commedia also, 
is an extended allegory. But more of this hereafter. The fol- 
lowing sonnet by Ariosto consists of a single bold and beautiful 
figure : 

The sun was hid in veil of blackest dye, 

That trailing swept the horizon's verge around. 
The leaves all trailing moaned with hollow sound, 

And peals of thunder scoured along the sky ; 

I saw fierce rain, or icy storm was nigh, 

Yet ready stood o'er the rough waves to bound 
Of that proud stream that hides, in tomb profound, 

The Delean lord's adventurous progeny ; 

When peering o'er the distant, shore, the beam 

I caught of thy bright eyes, and words I lieard 
That me Leander's fate may bring, one day ; 
Instant the gathered clouds dispersed away, 

At once unveiled the sun's bright orb appeared. 
The winds were silent, gently flowed the stream.*' 



CHAPTER IX. 

Tasso — His Character and Genius — The Gerusalemme Liberata. 

The life of Tasso, styled the Homer of Italy, is a long and mel- 
ancholy romance. His seven years' imprisonment in the hospital 
of St. Anna especially, is one of the most mournful events in lite-^ 
rary history. But his birth and his death were both crowned 
with honor ; and now he stands acknowledged one of the best 
men, and one of the greatest poets of his age. Differing essen- 
tially from Ariosto, his great contemporary, and much inferior to 
that poet in simplicity and vivacity of style, he must be allowed 
to be his superior in the dignity of his subject and in the grandeur 
of his aim. Both as to the purity of its tone and the loftiness 
of its style, the Gerusalemme Liberata infinitely transcends the 
Orlando Furioso, with which it has been frequently, but with 
much injustice, compared. The Orlando has beauties of its own ; 
but the Gerusalemme is a lofty epic, and makes a nSar approach 
to the Divina Commedia of Dante, and the Paradise Lost of Mil- 
ton. Indeed, it is a great moral a,nd religious poem, the true 
Pilgrim's Progress, or Paradise Regained of the Italian muse.* 

Bernardo Tasso, the father of Torquato, was one of the most 
•distinguished men of his time. Somewhat restless and change- 

* Leigh Hunt has given the name of " the Pilgrim's Progress" to the 
Divina Commedia, which every reader of taste must regard as awkward 
and inappropriate. 



TASSO- 119 

able, lie found time tc write many elegant lyrics, some volumes 
of excellent letters, and an epic poem not much known. His 
wife, Porzia di Rossi, was a young lady of fine accomplishments 
and a handsome dowry. She was also beautiful and affectionate, 
and inspired the profoundest affection in her husband and son. 
Torquato was born under the happiest auspices, in 1544, at Sor- 
rento, near Naples, amid the orange trees and olives, the flowers 
and breezes of "an aromatic coast, '* a region so charming as to 
be considered the habitation of the sirens. He died in Rome, in 
1595, in the immediate prospect of a poet's coronation, entirely 
satisfied and happy ; for, having received the Pope's benediction, 
he said : " This is the crown with which I hope to be crowned, 
not as a poet in the Capitol, but with the glory of the blessed in 
heaven." 

The interval between these two periods, his birth and his death, 
was mostly filled with change, grief, and care. Sensitive and 
impassioned, his only solace was his poetry, his dream of love, 
and especially his long and earnest yearning after uncreated and 
everlasting beauty. Like most of the great Italian poets, he com- 
bined singular contrasts. He possessed great faults and great vir- 
tues. Restless and proud, amorous and resentful, he was yet gen- 
tle and devout, afifectionate and self-sacrificing. In one aspect 
of his character he seemed to live only for this world, in another 
only for the next. He had the free and worldly manners of the 
age, and yet no man of his time possessed a stronger faith, and a 
more ardent longing for the good and true. 

His first great grief, mourned over to his dying day, and em- 
balmed, twenty-four years after the event, in the most touching 
verses, was his separation from his mother. This took place in 
his eleventh year, in consequence of his father's exile with the 
Prince of Salerno, to whose fortunes he was attached ; his mo- 
ther remaining at home to look after her dowry, which she never 



120 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



received. In two years after she died, it was supposed of poison ; 
so that Torquato never saw her again. In a beautiful fragment, 
beginning "• del grand' Apennino," he thus refers to the tears 
with which " the kisses of his poor mother were bathed," when 
he was forced from her embrace. 

** Me, from my mother's breast, a child, 

Did cruel fortune tear ; 
The tears she shed, the kisses wild, 

She pressed in her despair 
On my pale cheek, and oh, the zeal 
Of her most passionate appeal 

To Heaven for me in air 
Alone recorded — with regret, 
I yet remember — weep for yet I 

Kever, ah ! never more was I 

To meet her face to face. 
And feel my full heart beat more high 

In her beloved embrace ! 
I left her — oh the pang severe ! 
Like young Camilla, or more drear, 

Ascanius-like, to trace 
O'er hill and dale, through bush and brier, 
The footsteps of my wandering sire." 

Like all young and sensitive natures, Tasso loved, but loved ir 
vain, first Laura Peperara, and then Eleonora, one of the noble 
sisters of the Duke Alphonso."* In connection with the latter, 
many circumstances, imperfectly known, and only alluded to in 
Tasso*s letters and poems, deepened the morbid sensitiveness of 
his nature. It is said, and this is the opinion of Manzo, Gin- 

* Not that the beautiful Eleonora was insensible to the devotion ot 
Tasso, but their affection was checked and thwarted by untoward circum- 
stances. 



TASSO. 121 



guene, Rosini, and others, that he aspn-ed to her hand, which, 
according to the usages of society then existing, he could never 
hope to win ; that afterwards he was guilty of some slight indis- 
cretion, and his mind being somewhat unhinged, the Duke Al- 
phonso, of Ferrara, under whose patronage he had placed himself, 
and whose praises he had sung in the Gerusalemme, threw him 
into prison, a mournful expiation of a shght folly, and a monstrous 
usurpation of power over the fate of genius. 

Released at last, he wandered, like a ghost, here and there, 
now lingering in Mantua, and now returning to Ferrara, and then 
again suddenly abandoning it, as if he were haunted by some evil 
genius. He spent a short time in his native Sorrento, but even 
the serene beauty of that Eden could not detain him. His great 
poem had been surreptitiously printed, while he was confined to 
the lunatic hospital, and subjected to much cruel and ungen- 
erous criticism. True, it was greeted by the mass of readers with 
a storm of applause ; but the poisonous shafts of envy were let 
loose upon the poor poet. Leonora, too, was in her grave, and 
there seemed nothing on earth to satisfy the cravings of his too 
morbid and ethereal spirit. 

His visit to Naples during the latter part of his life was a great 
solace to his heart. Here he found friends and quiet, and for a 
season enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the neighborhood. Still 
his mind was unsatisfied, and, in our apprehension, somewhat de- 
ranged. A highly characteristic incident is narrated by his 
biographer, Manso, the Marquis of Villa. He had regarded him- 
self as an object of interest to some invisible spirit whom he 
denominated his messenger. Manso, expressing his doubts of the 
existence of such a spirit, received for reply that he should have 
ocular demonstration of the fact. Accordingly, one day, while 
they were sitting together at the Marquis's fireside, *'he turned 
his eyes," says Manso, '' towards a Avindow, and held them a long 
6 



122 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



time so intensely on it, that when I called him, he did not answer. 
At last, ' Behold,' said he, ' the friendly spirit which has cour- 
teously come to talk with me. Lift up your eyes, and see the 
truth.' I turned my eyes thither immediately," continues the 
Marquis, '* but though I endeavored to look as keenly as I could, 
I beheld nothing but the rays of the sun, which streamed through 
the panes of the window into the chamber. Whilst I still looked 
around, without beholding any object, Torquato began to hold, 
with this unknown something, a most lofty converse. I heard, 
indeed, and saw nothing but himself ; nevertheless, his words, at 
one time questioning, at another replying, were such as take place 
between those who reason strictly on some important subject. 
And from what was said by the one, the reply of the other might 
be easily comprehended by the intellect, although it was not 
heard by the ear. The discourses were so lofty and marvellous, 
both by the sublimity of their topics and the unwonted manner 
of talking, that, exalted above myself in a kind of ecstacy, I did 
not dare to interrupt them, nor ask Tasso about the spirit, which 
he had announced to me, but which I did not see. In this way, 
while I listened between stupefaction and rapture, a considerable 
time had elapsed ; till at last the spirit departed, as I learned 
from the words of Torquato ; who, turning to me, said, ' From 
this day forward all your doubts will have vanished from your 
mind.' * ISTay,' said I, ' they are rather increased ; since though I 
have heard many things worthy of marvel, I have seen nothing 
of what you promised to show me to dispel them.' He smiled, 
and said : ' You have seen and heard more of him, perhaps' — 
and here he paused. Fearful of importuning him with new 
questions, the discourse ended ; and the only conclusion I can 
draw is, what I before said, that it is more likely his visions or 
frenzies will disorder my own mind than that I shall extirpate his 
true or imaginary opinion." 



TASSO. 123 

The poet, for three years, had desired to be crowned with 
laurel at the Capitol, and his friends knowing that his genius 
deserved it, were inclined to gratify his wish. For this purpose 
he went to Rome, but in the meanwhile died in the arms of his 
friend. Cardinal Cinzio, closely embracing the crucifix, and feebly 
uttering the beginning of the sentence : " Into thy hands, 
Lord" — '* In manus tuas Domine /" The coronation took place 
after his death. His head was wreathed with laurel, and a mag- 
nificent toga was thrown around his body, placed in a sitting pos- 
ture ; a procession took place through the city by torch -light, all 
the inhabitants pouring out to gaze upon the august but mournful 
spectacle. He was buried in the church of St. Onofrio ; a plain 
slab being placed over his remains, with a simple Latin inscrip- 
tion : 

HERE LIE THE BONES OF TORQUATO TASSO. 

Some years after a handsome^ tomb was erected to his memory. 

Thus passed the life of a great and original poet, sometimes in 
sunshine, but mostly in shadow. A morbid temperament and 
unfavorable circumstances disturbed the balance of his mind, 
which was yet a great and beautiful, and heaven-aspiring mind. 
Like some august temple, shattered by the lightnings of heaven, 
it retained the sacred fire, and ever and anon, from its lonely 
altar, arose to God the hallowed incense of genius and love.* 

Tasso was pre-eminently learned, and besides the Gerusalemme 
Liberata, wrote many elaborate treatises, and innumerable lyrics, 
letters, and occasional poems. He was an ardent student of the 
"divine Plato," and possessed much of the sublime eloquence of 

"'*' To those who wish tc investigate the subject, we recommend Leigh 
Hunt's critiqwe on the cnaracter and genius of Tasso, and especially, 
"Wilde's Conjectures and Researches on the Love, Madness, and Imprison- 
ment of Torquato Tasso," (2 vols ) 



124 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



that prince of ancient philosophers. He had the same reverence 
for the " first good and the first fair/^ the same profound sense 
of " uncreated and eternal beauty," the same love of purity and 
truth, and the same longing for perfection, *' absolute and im- 
mortal." His style, too, has the same clearness, elegance, and 
splendor ; so that, in every way, Tasso is justly entitled to be 
called the Plato of the poets. Perhaps Milton might dispute 
with him the propriety of the name, for in him we find, even in a 
higher degree, the same elements of lofty grandeur and serene 
beauty, the same reverence for God, and yearning for immortality. 
Both give utterance to thoughts " which wander through eter- 
nity," and sing the same loud, clear, solemn psalm of thanks- 
giving and adoration. In our view, the note of Milton is stronger 
and more thrilling. It awakens deeper echoes, and leaves upon 
the mind a purer and sublimer impression. But they belong to 
the same order of genius, and aid in prolonging those lofty strains 
first heard at the creation of the worid, " when the morning stars 
sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 

Tasso was tall and well proportioned, with a fair face, rich 
brown hair, large head, and lofty brow. His eyes were blue 
and penetrating, surmounted by finely arched eyebrows ; his nose 
large, lips thin, teeth white and regular, a well developed chest, 
and a vigorous frame. But he was worn by care ; and his deep 
blue orbs flashed from beneath his wrinkled but lofty forehead. 
His manners were mostly courteous and agreeable, though, from 
the peculiar state of his mind, frequently gloomy and reserved. 
He was a hard student, and continued writing , and composing to 
his dying day. His Gerusalemme cost him intense application, 
and much laborious revision. The manuscript copy at Ferrara is 
written in a bold hand, but frequently erased and interlined. It 
is an irregular epic, with an allegorical import, describing the 
crusade to Jerusalem, then fresh in -.he minds of men, and pes- 



TASSO. 125 

sessing the highest, popular and rehgious interest. This, of 
course, is much diminished by time, and we can scarcely conceive 
the avidity and delight, with which the poem was read and recited 
in Tasso's age. It is written, as may naturally be supposed, with 
poetic license, and interwoven with supernatural machinery. In 
this respect, perhaps, consist its most obvious faults. The 
stanza is elaborate and stately ; to a modern reader, the whole 
poem may seem somewhat artificial and dull. But it is radiant 
with ideal beauty, and abounds in lyric power, felicitous descrip- 
tion, and melodious rhythm. It occasionally betrays too much 
effort, and an affectation of splendor and wit, but the whole is pene- 
trated with a genial and lofty spirit, and particular portions glow 
with a beauty all but supernal. Its occasional pictures are re- 
markably felicitous. What, for example, can be more striking 
than the following description of the angel commissioned to God- 
frey ? 

" This said, the angel swift himself prepared 

To execute the charge imposed aright ; 
In form of airy members fair embarred, 

His spirits pure were subject to our sight ; 
A stripling, scarce he seemed five winters old, 
And radiant beams adorned his locks of gold. 
Of silver wings he took a shining pair, 

Fringed with gold, unwearied, nimble, swift ; 
With these he parts the winds, the clouds, the air, 

And over seas and earth himself doth lift; 
Thus clad he cuts the spheres and circles fair, 

And the pure skies with sacred feathers clift. 
On Lebanon at first his foot he set. 
And shook his wings with rosy May-dews wet." 

The close of a rain-storm, described with astonishing force, is 
thus briefly pictured,with the addition of a fine moral sentiment : 



126 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



" Ceased the rain ; the sun began to shine 

With fruitful, sweet, benign and gentle ray, 

Full of strong power and vigor masculine, 
As are his beams in April or in May, 

O happy zeal ! who trusts in help divine, 
The world's afflictions thus can drive away 

Can storms appease, and times and seasons change, 

And conquer fortune, fate, and destiny strange." 

His energy and sublimity of description may be seen in the fol- 
lowing well-known stanza, which Voltaire himself has quoted, to 
show what the Italian language can do in the way of grandeur : 

•* The drearie trumpet blew a dreadful blast, 

And rombled through the lands and kingdoms under, 

Through wastness wide it roared and hollows vast, 
And filled the deep with horror, fear and. wonder ; 

Not half so dreadful noise the tempests cast 

That fall from skies with storms of hail and thunder, 

Nor half so loud the whistling winds do sing, 

Broke from the earthen prisons of their king."* 

Some of his descriptions of natural scenery possess great fresh- 
ness and beauty. Take the following as a specimen : 

" The heavens were clear, and wholesome was the air, 
High trees, sweet meadows, waters pure and good ; 

For there, in thickest shade of myrtles fair, 
A crystal spring poured out a silver flood ; 

Amid the herbs, the grass, and flowers rare, 

The falling leaves down pattered from the wood ; 

The birds sang hymns of love ; yet speak I naught 

Of gold and marble rich, and richly wrought." 

* These translations are from the quaint but powerful version of Fair- 
fax, which, though defective, makes the nearest approach to the original. 



TASSO. 127 

We have said that the Gerusalemme is an epic, with an alle- 
gorical import — a circumstance distinctly announced by the author, 
but seldom noticed by his critics. Leigh Hunt, for example, has 
a long and elaborate critique on the character and genius of Tas- 
so, and yet never mentions this circumstance. It may be claimed, 
indeed, that this was an after-thought of the author, and did not 
enter the first draft of his poem ; nay more, that it injures its 
beauty and perfection. It seems to us, however, that an author 
is the best judge of his own meaning and design ; and it is quite 
evident that this feature of the poem enters into its very essence, 
and ought to be taken into consideration in every just estimate of 
its value. Not to do so, were the same thing as to treat Spen- 
ser's '* Fairie Queen'' or Bunyan's '* Pilgrim's Progress" as a 
veritable history, or a mere romance, having only an occasional 
or an incidental moral. The Jerusalem of Tasso is the celestial 
city of Bunyan ; his warriors are the vices and virtues which 
struggle in deadly combat, like the warriors of ** Mansoul ;" the 
. final victory, under Godfrey and Rinaldo, the triumph of the soul 
over evil ; their possession of the Holy City, its beatification and 
enthronement in the realms of glory. ** The army," says the 
poet himself, " composed of divers princes and other Christian 
soldiers, signifies man compounded of soul and body, and of a 
soul not simple, but divided into many and divers powers. Jeru- 
salem, the strong city, placed in a rough and hilly country, 
whereunto, as to the last end, are directed all the enterprises of 
the faithful army here, denotes the civil happiness which may 
come to a Christian man." So also, he proceeds to show, that God- 
frey, the leader of the crusade, stands for understanding, '* which 
is of God ;" and Rinaldo for passion, or the motive power of the 
soul, which may be seduced, but under the control of the under- 
standing performs all godlike exploits. The devils which hin- 
der the taking of Jerusalem are both things and figures^ repre- 



128 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



senting the vices which hinder our attainment of virtue. The 
enchantments of Ismen, in the wood, are deceptive illusions. The 
fire, the whirlwind, the darkness, the monsters, and other feigned 
semblances, are seductive allurements, under their real aspects. 
The flowers, the fountains, the rivers, the musical instruments, 
the nymphs, are the same enticements in borrowed colors. 
The angels do signify sometimes heavenly helps, and sometimes 
inspiration. Finally, the subjection of Rinaldo with the other 
chieftains and army to Godfrey, signifies the subjection, and har- 
mony, by the blessing of God, of all the mental and moral pow- 
ers, the superior commanding, and the inferior *' obeying as they 
should.'^ Thus man attains '' politic happiness.'* But this 
ought not to be "the last aim of a Christian man;" he ought 
to '' look higher," that is, to everlasting fehcity ; " for this cause 
Godfrey does not desire to win the earthly Jerusalem, to have 
therein only temporal dominion ; but because herein may be cele- 
brated the worship of God, and that the holy sepulchre may be 
more freely visited by godly strangers and devout pilgrims." The 
poem is closed with the prayers of Godfrey, in which is '* shown 
us that the understanding, wearied and exhausted in civil matters, 
ought in the end to rest in devotion, and in the contemplation of 
the eternal blessedness of the other most happy and immortal 
life." 

Whether this was written before or after the composition of 
the poem is no matter. It indicates the true, though somewhat 
occult design of the author, and sheds a divine light over the 
whole. It is in the spirit of Plato, and of the ancient poets, 
especially of Dante and of Spenser. Nay, it is in the spirit of the 
old Hebrew prophets and seers, who were inspired of Heaven, 
to clothe their sublime revelations in the gorgeous drapery of 
oriental allegories and dreams. And as Nature herself is a sort 
of allegory, an outward and visual representation of inward and 



TASSO. 129 



everlasting truth, " the garment of the Almighty" — in other words, 
the visible image of his might and love — this style of poetry, well 
managed, has a peculiar charm for lofty and meditative souls, 
who, like Dante, Milton and Tasso, can " unsphere the spirit of 
Plato, '^ and invest with new and more splendid embodiment the 
eternal verities of God. What significance does such a view give 
to the various scenes of the Gerusalemme ! What new and 
strange beauty does it shed upon its magnificent close ! What 
radiance, especially, does it impart to the touching description of 
the Crusaders' first sight of Jerusalem — a passage admirable in 
itself, and simply as a description, but infinitely more so, as 
imaging the first view which a Christian man enjoys of his ulti- 
mate triumph over sin, and of his admission to celestial glory. 
With this description we close our brief notices of Tasso."^ 

" Winged is each heart, and winged is each heel ; 
They fly, yet notice not how fast they fly ; 
But by the time the dewless meads reveal 
The fervent sun's ascension in the sky, 
Lo, towered Jerusalem salutes the eye ! 
A thousand pointing fingers tell the tale • 

Jerusalem, a thousand voices cry, 
All hail, Jerusalem ! hill, down and dale 
Catch the glad sound and shout, Jerusalem, all hail 1 

To the pure pleasure which that first fair view, 

In their reviving spirits sweetly shed, 
Succeeds a deep contrition, feelings new — 

Grief mixed with awe, affection mixed with dread. 

Scarce dare they now upraise the abject head. 
Or turn toward Zion their desiring eyes, 

The elected city where Messias bled, 
Defrauded death of his long tyrannies, 
New clothed his limbs with life, and re assumed the skies. 

* We use Herbert's translation here. 
6* 



130 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Low accents, plaintive whispers, groans profound, 

Sighs of a nation that in gladness grieves, 
And melancholy mm*murs float around, ^ 

Till the sad air a thrilling sound receives, 

Like that which sobs amid the dying leaves. 
When with autumnal wind, the forest waves ; 

Dash of an insurgent sea, that heaves 
On lonely rocks, or locked in weeping caves. 
Hoarse through their hollow aisles in wild low cadence raves * 

* The original of this is inexpressibly harmonious and tender. What 
can be more beautiful than the following ? 

"Ma quando il sol gli aridi cam pi fiede 
Con raggi assai ferventi, e in alto sorge 

Ecco apparir Gerusalem si vede, 
Ecco additar Gerusalem si scorge, 

Ecco da mille voci unitamente 

Gerusalemme salutar si sent©." 



CHAPTER X. 

The Ducal Circle in the youth of Tasso — Queen Renee and her daughters — 
Visitors — Calvin and Marot — French Version of the Psalms — Madame de 
Soubise and her daughter Anne of Parthenai — Giraldi — Fulvio Morata — 
Ourio' — Aonio Paleario — Calcagnani and Pier Manzolli — Olympia Morata 
— Brief Sketch of her Life — Poems on her Death— Tiraboschi, Muratori, 
Guarini and others — Bologna — Its Schools of Painting and LaY'' — Dis- 
tinguished Italian females — Prospects of Bologna. 

Previous to the birth, and during the youth of Tasso, we find 
in Ferrara a brilliant group of amiable and learned persons, in 
connection witli the ducal circle, among whom were several dis- 
tinguished Protestants, Italians and foreigners, attracted thither 
by the noble hospitality of Renee, herself a Protestant, daugh- 
ter of Louis XII, King of France, and wife of Hercules, Duke of 
Ferrara. Brantome, who is enthusiastic in his praises of this 
queen-like woman, and her noble daughters, Anne of Este, the 
most beautiful princess of the age, and Eleonora the favorite of 
Tasso, informs us, that while Renee was rather plain in her per- 
sonal appearance, she possessed the highest qualities of intellect 
and heart, being at once accomplished and generous. Her man- 
ners, too,, were particularly engaging. She had ** an agreeable 
expression, fine eyes, beautiful teeth, and an air of youthful 
bloom, inexpressibly pleasing." Wise, witty, and virtuous, are 
terms used by her biographers to express their admiration of her 
character. She was well versed in mathematics and astronomy. 



132 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



and conversed, with ease, on the profoundest topics of philoso- 
phy and divinity. 

This noble woman, though somewhat tried in her own domestic 
relations — her husband a bigoted Catholic, and urged by the 
Papal court to restrain the free expression of his wife's opinions — 
afforded ample protection to the numerous Prostestant refugees 
who found their way to Ferrara. Among others that came 
thither we find no less a person than Calvin himself, who spent 
some time in Ferrara, under the assumed name of George Hep- 
peville ; and Clement Marot, a French poet, a man of elevated 
character and pure piety, and the first to translate the psalms of 
David into the French language. This he accomplished with 
rare felicity, so that his version was introduced into universal use 
among the Protestant churches, and became a great favorite 
with the most devout and learned men. It is a little curious that 
it was dedicated to Francis the First, and continued at his re- 
quest, although subsequently prohibited by the same authority. 
On its first appearance, it was received with great avidity by both 
Catholics and Protestants, who testified their admiration for this 
new species of poetry, by adapting to it the most popular ballad 
tunes. 

Francis himself, who was fond of singing, set to music the 
hundred and twenty-eighth psalm ; while Henry the Second made 
the hunting fields resound with his favorite, '* As pants the hart." 
The queen, the royal mistress, and the King of Navarre, all 
chose separate ones adapted to their peculiar tastes, and sung 
them to favorite airs. 

But this reign of court favor was brief. After the version was 
adopted by the Protestants, and became a part of the ritual of 
Geneva, it was prohibited by the King of France. Theodore 
Beza who completecj. the version, has left on record this pleas- 
ing testimony to its value. In a paraphrase on the Psalter, he 



UNIVERSITY. 13a 



thus writes in 1581 : " It is now exactly thirty-two years since 
I heard for the first time this ninety-first psalm sung in a Chris- 
tian assembly ; and I may truly say, I heard it with such delight, 
on so good an occasion, that I have ever since borne it engraved 
on my heart." The celebrated Madame de Soubise, governess to 
Renee, and her beautiful daughter, Anne de Parthenai, both 
Protestants, formed a part of the circle of which Renee was the 
centre ; and often, we doubt not, the private rooms of the ducal 
palace rang with their music, as they chanted the psalms of 
Marot. 

The University of Ferrara, at this time, enjoyed the highest 
distinction. It was founded by the Emperor Frederick the Sec- 
ond, and for centuries after its foundation was thronged with 
students from various parts of Italy, and even from Germany 
and England. Connected with it were some very distinguished 
men ; among others, Lilio Gregorio Giraldi, represented by De 
Thou and others as the most learned man of his age. He was 
well versed in science, and assisted, by his calculations. Pope 
Gregory the Thirteenth in the reformation of the calendar. Dur- 
ing the reign of Duke Hercules, the English students in attend- 
ance at this university were so numerous as to form a distinct 
"nation," or community. Many of these, doubtless, were Pro- 
testants, and many more strongly inclined to the new views, at 
that time spreading everywhere. Fulvio Morata, the father of 
the celebrated Olympia Morata ; Celio Secundo Curio, one of the 
most learned, men of his time, and subsequently professor of 
Roman eloquence in the university of Basel ; Antonio Flaminio,* 
Aonio Paleario, a distinguished Italian martyr, and many other 
Protestants, were at this time resident in Ferrara. Calcagfnani, 
the canon of the cathedral, was liberal in his views, and Pier 

* Author of a celebrated work, on " The Benefit of Christ's Death.'* 



134 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Manzolli, court physician, a poet and a man of science, leaned 
strongly to Protestant sentiments.* Fannio, said to be the first 
Protestant martyr in Italy, was lying, at this very time, in prison 
at Ferrara. 

But among all these, none have attracted deeper interest than 
Olympia Morata, the favorite of Queen Renee, and the companion, 
in their studies, of her daughters, Anne of Este, Lucretia, who 
niarried the Duke of Urbino, and the beautiful Leonora, made 
immortal by the love and admiration of Tasso. Olympia was not 
only beautiful in person, and engaging in manners, but possessed 
of uncommon genius. At an early age she read the Greek lan- 
guage fluently, and composed graceful poems in that classic 
tongue. She was also well versed in philosophy and theology, 
wrote a learned defense of Cicero, of whom she was a great ad- 
mirer, and emulated the beauty of his style. Her correspond- 
ents were the most learned men of the age, who express the high- 
est admiration of her talents and virtues. At the age of sixteen 
she had attained such celebrity, that she was requested to assume 
the professional habit, and actually delivered lectures in the 
Academy of Ferrara. Her works, many of which are lost, were 
collected by her friend and correspondent, the amiable and learned 
Secundo Curio, and her life, elaborately written in Latin, by 
Noltenius, a distinguished Herman scholar. From the pages of 
this biography we make the following extract, in reference to the 
fact of her giving public lectures: ''The year in which she put 
on the professional habit, we learn from the Epistle of Curio to 
Xystus Butuleius, was that before the death of her father, when 
she had just completed her sixteenth year. This is more dis- 
tinctly stated in the preface to the first edition of the works of 

* He was the author of *' The Zodiac of Life," whose severe reflections 
upon the errors of Rome caused it to be placed among the prohibited books, 
and burned by the common executioner. 



OLYMPIA MORATA. 135 



Olympia, which Curio dedicated to that illustrious lady, Isabella 
Manricha, of Bresagna, where he circumstantially relates the par- 
ticulars of her entrance into the Academy of Ferrara; and as 
this account of Curio is of much importance in her history, I sub- 
join his precise words. * She wrote observations on Homer, the 
prince of poets, whom she translated with great strength and 
sweetness. She composed many and various poems with great 
elegance, especially on divine subjet^ts, and dialogues in Greek and 
Latin, in imitation of Plato and Cicero, in such perfection that 
even Zoilus could have found nothing to criticise. She wrote also 
those three essays on the paradoxes of Cicero, which in Greek 
are called prefaces, when she was scarcely sixteen years of age ; 
and declaimed, from memory, and with excellent pronunciation, 
her explanation of the paradoxes in the private academy of the 
Duchess of Ferrara.' " Among other things, Olympia wrote an ode 
in Sapphic Greek, of great force and beauty, in which she cele- 
brates the praises of the Almighty. This poem attracted so much 
admiration, that many doubted whether it could be the work of 
a real Olympia, which Curio in a letter assures a learned friend 
it really was, and adds : '' She is skilled in Greek and Roman lit- 
erature, beyond what any one can credit ; and is skilled also in 
her knowledge of religion.'* 

While this youthful genius astonished the learned by her 
marvellous attainments, she was distinguished by a rare modesty. 
In person she was exceedingly attractive, and in manners, bland 
and engaging. Her letters are models of beautiful composition, 
genuine modesty, and profound piety. She was the favorite of 
all, and one of the wonders of the age. 

But becoming, through the study of the Scriptures — which 
she read not only in the Italian, but in the original tongues — the 
converse of good men, and the influence of Renee, a decided Pro- 
testant, she was subjected to harassing trials, and even to severe 



136 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



persecution. The Inquisition had been estabhshed in Italy, and 
many distinguished Protestants were exiled, cast into prison, or 
burned at the stake. Duke Hercules had yielded to the bigoted 
suggestions of the Pope, and did what he could to purge his fam- 
ily from the leaven of Protestantism. Somehow her enemies 
succeeded in estranging from Olympia the affection of Renee ; 
her father, too, died, and she was left alone in the midst of a cold 
and selfish world. At this juncture a young German physician, 
of high character and accomplished manners, who had visited 
Ferrara in the prosecution of his studies, offered Olympia his 
hand, which she accepted ; and, after infinite regrets, and torrents 
of tears, permitted herself to be torn from her native land. After 
many trials and wanderings, she found a home on the banks of 
the Neckar, in the old and beautiful city of Heidelberg, But 
her misfortunes and exposures had undermined her health, and 
she died in her twenty-ninth year, wept by her friends, and 
mourned by the whole literary world. Her entire life was a 
comment on the dignity and purity of the Christian character. 
She was serene, gentle, self-possessed and happy. Her death 
was calm and beautiful as a summer's eve — 

"Kot weary, worn-out winds expire more soft." 

A short time before her death, on awaking from a tranquil 
sleep into which she had fallen, '' I observed her," says her hus- 
band, writing to a friend, ^' smiling very sweetly ; and I went 
near, and asked her whence that heavenly smile proceeded. * I 
beheld,' said she, * just now, while lying quiet, a place filled with 
the clearest and brightest light.' Weakness prevented her from 
saying more. * Come,' said I, ^ be of good cheer, my dearest 
wife, you are about to dwell in that" beautiful light.' She again 
smiled and nodded to me, and in a little while said, 'I am 
all gladness ;' nor did she again speak, till her eyes becoming dim, 



OLYMPIA MORATA. 137 

she said, ' 1 can scarcely know you, but all places appear to me to 
be full of the fairest flowers.' " '' Not long after," he adds, '' as 
{{fallen into a sweet slumber , she expired/' Her husband soon fol- 
lowed her, and was laid in the grave by her side. She died at 
Heidelberg, October 25, 1555. 

* It sank at length subdued, that martyr frame, 

A seraph spirit's perishable shrine. 

How brighter glowed in death the undying flame 

Of raptured faith ! while many a tender line 
Proved how pure earthly ties with homeward thoughts may twine ; 

While parting words with heaven's own odors fraught, 

Drop balm-distilling on each sorrowing heart, 

Fancy revives the scene — we see in thought 

The loved of mortals to that sphere depart 

Where mortal loves are all unknown. Oh ! why ? 
Blest thought I — all there are robed in immortality." 

Tlie following is an elegy, in the form of an epitaph, written by 
the celebrated Mycillus : 

" Within this hallowed mound the ashes rest 
Of her, bright leader of the Aonian band, 
Olympia! once I talia's fairest, best ! 
Led thence by love and duty's summons bland, 
Franconia's vine-clad hills her footsteps pressed, 

Lingering awhile by crystal Maine, and Saava's golden sand. 
There while vexed cities felt war's flaming brand, 
And thrones and altars hostile bands molest. 
Twice spoiled, twice captive, by the Almighty's hand 
From death preserved — His power her lips confest, 

Which gave repose at last on Neckar's peaceful breast. 

Alike by Hature and by genius blest. 
Born on sublimest heights of lore to stand; 



138 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Twining — though at a simple maid's behest — 
The muse of Greece and Rome in roseate band, . 
Herself a muse — and by the graces drest; 
Nor fame nor genius could the fates withstand, 
Nor grace ward off the arrow from her breast — 
Stranger ! yet these may well thy tears demand ! 
Invoke through death's long night, her weary spirit's rest." 

Secundo Curio also wrote an epitaph on Olympia, expressive 
of his love and reverence. It is marred by some conceits, like 
most of the poetry of his age, but has traits of beauty and ten- 
derness. It closes thus : 

" To mortals known 
As one that all her sisterhood outshone 
In genius, learning, and that brighter fame. 
Pure, spotless life, and pure Religion claim ! 
- For this, who gave the earth to view 
For a brief space her virtues heavenward drew, 
First each pm'e thought, and then a soul so bright, 
With Him to dwell, in realms of endless light. 
There rest and bliss are hers. Traveller, adieu ! 
Be thine such paths and blessings to pursue !" 

There are other distinguished persons connected vi^ith Ferrara, 
upon whose character and writings we might profitably dwell, did 
our space permit, such as Tiraboschi, author of the " History of 
Italian Literature," Muratori, who wrote learnedly on history and 
antiquities, and Guarini, author of the '' Pastor Fido," a work 
of much elegance and beauty, though too dainty in style, and 
partaking too largely of the loose tendencies of Italian literature. 

But we must tear ourselves from this ancient and interesting 
city, now so changed from what it once was, and glorious only 
from the memory of the past, in which romance and reality, the 



BOLOGNA. 139 



dreams of earth and the hopes of heaven have been so singularly 
blended. 

Of our journey to Florence we say comparatively nothing. 
Passing over the ground rapidly, and interested more in ideas 
and men than in localities and scenery, we linger only a short time 
at the somewhat dingy and antique city of Bologna, famous for 
its hanging towers and mighty sausages, and yet more famous for 
its ancient university, its learned professors, its rich paintings and 
its patriotic citizens. But we are compelled to dismiss all this 
with a few words, for it would take a volume to give the history 
of the university, with its former attendance of eight to ten 
thousand students, its learned professors and its magnificent col- 
lections in natural history and the arts ; of the Caracci, Ludovico, 
Annibale and Agostino, founders of the celebrated Bologna school 
of painting ; and above all of their pupils, Domenichino, whose 
Communion of St. Jerome and Annunciation of the Virgin are 
among the most striking and beautiful paintings in Half ; Guido, 
whose St. John is world-renowned, and Guercini, '' v,^ho combined 
the boldness of Caravaggio with the beauty and sweetness of 
Guido.'' The University of Bologna was especially famous for 
its schools of law and medicine. li was here that Werner, or 
Irnerius, a native of that city, a man of the highest character 
and extensive attainments, favored by Henry Fifth of Germany, 
and by the high-minded Countess Matilda, opened, at the begin- 
ning of the twelfth century, the first law school, and began to 
read and expound the recently discovered pandects of Justinian, 
which had either fallen into disuse, or were entirely lost, till re- 
covered by the Pisans at the taking of Amalfi. Thence proceed- 
ed various law schools, founded in Italy and among the transal- 
pine nations, and modelled after that of Bologna. The influence 
of this study upon the political and social destinies of Italy was 
immense. It introduced a new element into society, and vastly 



140 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



aided in its refinement and elevation. Connected with tins insti- 
tution we find the illustrious name of Casini, who drew the first 
meridian, Malpighi, famous for his discoveries in physiology, and 
ahove all Marsigli, " soldier and philosopher,'' who, by presenting 
a noble collection of scientific apparatus, became the founder of 
the present institution, which is rich in objects of natural sci- 
ence. But the University of Bologna has acquired a yet further 
distinction from the large number of its female professors. In 
the fourteenth century, if we may believe the somewhat gossiping 
chroniclers, Novella d' Andrea, daughter of the celebrated canon- 
ist, frequently occupied her father's chair. Her beauty, it is said, 
was so great that a curtain was drawn before her in order to pre- 
vent the inevitable distraction of the students' minds ! 

" Drawn before her, 
Lest if her charms were seen, the students 
Should let their young eyes wander o'er her, 
And quite forget their jurisprudence." — Moore, 

Laura Bassi, in more recent times, was professor of mathemat- 
ics and natural philosophy. She had conferred upon her the 
doctorate of laws, and her lectures were regularly attended by 
many learned ladies of France and Germany. A still more sin- 
gular instance is that of Madonna Manzolina who was professor 
of anatomy, and highly celebrated for her attainments in surgery ! 
Still more recently the Greek chair was filled by the learned Ma- 
tilda Tambroni, who preceded the extraordinary Mezzofanti, now 
a cardinal, and one of the greatest linguists in the world. Indeed, 
Italy has been highly distinguished for its women of learning and 
genius ; among whom were the infamous but beautiful Tullia 
d'Aragona, the favorite of Cardinal Hippolito de Medici and others ; 
Morosina, the mistress of the wordly Bembo, whom he did not 
desert even when a cardinal ; Imperia Cortisana Romana, who re- 



BOLOGNA. 141 



ceived the homage of Sadaleto ; and, at an infinite remove from all 
these in the superiority of their piety and virtue, the beautiful 
and high-souled Yittoria Colonna, and the no less accomplished 
and amiable Olympia Morata. All these, and many others in the 
same walks of life, were well versed not only in Italian, but in 
classical literature. Latin, and especially Greek, was a favorite 
study of the ladies, as much so as French and German in our 
days. The daughters of Renee were educated under the care of 
the brothers Sinapii, famous classical scholars, and read freely the 
Greek and Roman authors. Olympia Morata, as we have already 
seen, declaimed in Latin, and wrote magnificent odes in the lan- 
guage of Sappho and Homer. Nor did all this detract from the 
beauty and simplicity of their character. They were no less ami- 
able for perusing the lofty meditations of Plato and Cicero, or 
scanning, with intense delight, the burning lines of ^schylus and 
Pindar. 

Bologna has seen many painful changes. Its citizens are bold 
and patriotic, and rejoice, with exceeding joy, in the prospective 
emancipation of their country. They have done and suflfered 
much in the cause of liberty ; and, although their city is greatly 
diminished in grandeur and influence, and their noble university, 
like those of Padua, Pisa and Ferrara, has dwindled into com- 
parative insignificance ; although their school of painting has 
passed away, and their old towers are nodding to their fall, yet 
they bear an important part in the battle for freedom and inde- 
pendence, and may yet see the sun of a high and enduring pros- 
perity dawn upon their destiny. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Sunrise among the Apennines — Scenery — Feudal Castles — Spirit of the 
early Republics — Tendencies in Italy to centralization — False views of 
liberty — Its true nature — Based on virtue — "No true freedom in Italy — 
Hopes — Scenery — Fellow travellers — Conversation on Religion — Catho- 
lic miracles and so forth — Approach to Florence — Its beauty — Associa- 
tions and Distinctions — Sketch of the history of Florence — Its present 
state and prospects. 

One of the most delightful mornings that ever broke upon the 
world, finds us among the verdant Apennines, on our way to 
Florence, The eastern sky is **all roseate," while the rest of the 
heavens is beginning to tremble with the flashing radiance. 
The summits of the mountains, crowned here and there with the 
ruins of an old castle, a church or a convent, are burning in the 
golden hght of opening day, while the vales beneath are reposing 
in a soft but rapidly vanishing twilight. Now we are rattling 
along the base of the steep mountain, with a stream on one side 
and a pretty village on the other ; anon, we are climbing some 
wooded acclivity or rough ascent, from which a wide expanse 
of hills and vales, trees and streams, exhilarates the eye. At 
one time we pass a small chapel with a dark-looking shrine, 
where kneel a few devotees before the sacred relics of some 
ancient saint, or an image of the Virgin mother, the beautiful god- 
dess of the Papal worship ; at another, we descry some pretty 
cottages nestling among the trees and sheltering vines of the 
mountain's side; and just beyond them the remains of an 



FREEDOM IN ITALY. 143 

old feudal castle, in which some fierce Bolognese or Florentine 
noble cooped himself in the dark and stormy times of the twelfth 
century. 

When the cities on the plains had achieved their liberty, many 
of the old aristocratic families were driven to their strongholds 
among the mountains, where they hunted and feasted, plotted 
and watched, until invited by the citizens to return to their former 
homes. Taking up their permanent abode in the free cities, in 
times of peace, they united or attempted to unite, the feudal 
and democratic elements ; in other words, the aristocracy and the 
people. In this, we discover the source of most of the difficulties 
which assailed the early Italian republics, and the occasion of 
their final destruction. For in that chaotic and changeful age, 
when everything was in a state of movement and transition, fierce 
contests and bloody wars prevailed between the different cities, 
and between the different crafts, families and individuals of the 
same city, which naturally called into action the superior, courage 
and resources of the richer and more aristocratic citizens. These, 
availing themselves of the influence thus acquired, broke down 
the liberties of the people, and constituted themselves masters 
and sovereigns of the state. True, they were often defeated, 
sometimes destroyed, and not unfrequently driven back to the 
mountains ; but in the end they uniformly succeeded in raising 
themselves and their families to supreme power and dominion. 

In addition to this, the tendency to centralization has ever been 
resistless in Italy. The people are passionately attached to what 
they call liberty and independence ; but scarcely know in what 
these consist. They expect everything from government, little 
from individual character. The crosier and the sword, not virtue 
and the truth, are their main dependence. They have a talent, it 
is said, for revolutions, but little for n constructions. They love 
to fight, but cannot govern. In fact, their love of freedom is a 



144 GENIUS OF ITALi^. 



blind impulse, not an iatelligent, well-regulated sentiment. They 
sigh for independence, but it is independence rather of external 
than of internal despotism. Proud of their country, they wish to 
see it united and powerful ; but they do not dread the sovereign- 
ty of a Pope, of an Emperor, or of a Council. If only free from 
a foreign yoke, they will bow their necks to a domestic one. True, 
that yoke must be strong, consistent and paternal, or they will 
cast it from them with disdain ; but they have no objection to 
kingly or priestly despotism in the hands of able and judicious 
men, who understand their temper, and oppress them handsomely 
and consistently ! 

In Italy the idea of Papal supremacy, at least in matters spir- 
itual, of Catholic as well as national unity and independence, has 
ever been a favorite one. It is cherished even by some professed 
reformers. All their efforts for freedom presuppose this, or intend 
its realization. Of individual responsibility in matters of the 
highest import, such as the government of the soul, of the church, 
or even of the state, they have no just or adequate conception. 
In the one they yield themselves without a murmur to the priest- 
hood, their " spiritual rulers," as they call them ; in the other, to 
such ruler or rulers as God or the nation may select. One of their 
most distinguished writers of the present day affirms, in the 
strongest terms, that the Italians will never abandon the idea of 
Catholic unity ; that they wdll not suffer the formation of sects, and 
that they will give their heart and hand to the support of the 
Pope, if he will only put himself at the head of national pro- 
gress and independence. In this way everything tends to a cen- 
tre ; power floating about among the people, returns into the 
hands of one or of a few, the source of all despotisms and corrup- 
tions in church and state. Hence all the changes, startling as 
ma-ny of them have been, through which the people of Italy have 
passed, except th<? early struggles of the free cities, have only 



FREEDOM. 145 



served to aggrandize the power of some pope, prince or duke ! 
How indeed can man be free in his social, when a slave in his 
spiritual relations ? How govern the state, when he cannot gov- 
ern himself? When he abandons to a priest, or a hierarchy 
of priests, his higher, his immortal interests, how act the part of 
a freeman and a sovereign in regard to his inferior and secular 
interests ? To be free as an individual, man must possess the 
power of self-control — that is to say, before being a freeman, 
and while a freeman, he must be a sovereign to himself. So also 
as a state, man will never be free, until he is capable of control- 
ling or governing the state. To achieve this honor he must be 
virtuous, both as an individual and a state. First of all, the 
deathless spirit must be the home of freedom — of all order, stabil- 
ity and repose — of submission to God, but to none but God, and 
God's vicegerent, which is conscience, enlightened by the truth and 
spirit of Heaven. Then let his pastor be his teacher, his moni- 
tor and friend, but not his master or sovereign. God only is fit 
to govern in such a realm. He is the true sovereign of the soul ; 
and his only representative on earth is the soul itself ; in other 
words, conscience, sitting supreme amid the inferior powers, and 
guiding them all to their legitimate results. The soul, in fact, is 
both subject and sovereign ; as the state, in its highest form, must 
ever be both subject and sovereign. This is the theory of gov- 
ernment in the United States ; for here every man, while a sub- 
ject, orderly and submissive, is for that very reason a sovereign. 
The people, under God, are autocrats, self-ruled, which is only 
saying that they are a democracy, (demo-kratia,) governed by their 
own chosen rulers, the only condition of society in which the 
highest form of freedom can be realized. Thence comes stability 
to the family, to the community and the state. Thence proceeds 
the government of opinion, of thought and of law, not of kingly 
or aristocratic power, of standing armies and brute force. 
7 



146 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



So long then as the soul of the individual is given up to the 
guidance of others, so long as the church is governed not by God 
and his spirit, in other words, by truth and love, but by fallible 
or infallible despots, so long will the man, individual and social, 
be feeble and enslaved. If freedom, or rather its image, be grasp- 
ed as an ideal, or even enjoyed for a few brief and struggling 
years, it will finally be lost in the aristocratic and centralizing 
tendencies of such a condition of society. For the higher will 
always control the lower, the spiritual, the natural, the priestly, 
the social and secular. This is the result in the long run. Re- 
ligion pertains to the soul, and the soul is the fountain-head of all 
influences in society, whether good or bad Now centralization 
is an essential element of the Papal church, and consequently of 
society formed under its influence. The Romish priesthood can- 
not exist without a hierarchy or a sovereignty of priests. Unity, 
universality, that is, the dead level of an universal despotism, is 
their dominant impulse and aim. This of course enters into the 
social fabric, and combines with all the forms of government. 
Hence the divine right of kings, the doctrine of slavish submission, 
of central authority and universal obedience ; hence, in a word, 
the whole framework and history of Italian society. Even in the 
early republics, the tendency constantly was to the centralization 
of power. It could never be retained by the people, even for a 
few years, except by desperate struggles. Indeed, these repub- 
lics were not democracies, but aristocracies. The governors ever 
tyrannized over the governed, the priests over the people, and the 
people over one another. Thus the final form of government 
was either an aristocracy, an oligarchy, a dukedom or a monar- 
chy. Democracy has never established itself in Italy — a perfect 
republic is an impossibility there, without a revolution not only in 
government, but in society. 

It is a striking circumstance that in all the speculations of their 



FREEDOM. 147 



leading reformers, Gioberti, Yentura, Azeglio, Balbo and Manzoni, 
the integrity of the Papal power, Cathohc unity and universality, are 
strongly maintained as the safeguards of society and the last hope of 
the people. In this way, all their present efforts, revolutions and 
struggles, some of them sublime and worthy of the heroic ages, are 
tending — to what ? To the elevation of some prince or duke, or it 
may be Pope, to the sovereignty, or, which will come to the same 
thing in the end, to the presidency of the Itahan people. Even the 
democracies of Italy, supposing them established, will have to be 
governed or controlled by some central Junto, At present, how- 
ever, neither Milan nor Rome, and we fear not even Florence and 
Venice, can be a republic worthy of the name. They yet need the 
control of the bayonet, and it makes little difference whether that 
is in the hands of a sovereign, or of an assembly. Centralization 
is the order of the day ; and it will be found, for some time to 
come, that papal and kingly thrones are the centres to which all 
the radii tend. The Pope, indeed, may abdicate his temporal power ; 
but his spiritual dominion will be enhanced by that very means. "^ 

Religion is not yet free in any part of Italy . Consequently, thought, 
the vital impulse of the soul, the vital impulse of the State, is not 
free— worship and utterance are not free. And if thought, wor- 
ship and utterance are not free, what is free ? The press ? No ! 
The pulpit ? No. The bar ? No. The individual man— all I 
mean that constitutes a man — thought, feeling, worship, utter- 
ance, action — is enslaved. The State is enslaved. 

If you cannot trust man with his religion, you cannot trust him 
with himself. In fact he is fit for nothing. Certainly he is not 
fit for the government of the State ! You treat him as a child or 
a slave as to his conscience ; how then is it possible to make him 
a man as to anything besides ? 

* Recent changes have defeated the plans of the Reformers referred to. 
We let these remarks stand, however; they will yet be verified. 



148 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Doubtless the Italians have partly outlived their creeds. They 
have somewhat outgrown the usages of feudalism and tyranny. 
Thought, if not free, is fermenting in the mass. The people be- 
gin to shake themselves from the dust, to emerge from the horri- 
ble chaos in which they have struggled for ages. They are on 
the way to freedom. The night is far spent. The day, the bright 
and beautiful day, is at hand. Even now it is rising in the orient, 
and sending its beams far over the gloom yet brooding upon hill 
and vale. The people begin to think for themselves, at least in 
some things. Soon they will think, nay more, act for themselves 
in all things. The very idea of civil freedom, if they can only get 
the true idea, will introduce that of rehgious freedom ; then 
liberty of worship, liberty of speech and of the press, liberty of 
action and pursuit — all will follow. So that, after the struggle 
of years, the whole structure of despotism, civil and ecclesiastical, 
shall give way, and the nation, soul and body, be free. It is a 
work of time, belonging as it does to the very life and essence of 
society. A. few steps towards it is all we can now look for. Yet 
that is much, very much ; for once fairly on the way to freedom, 
no power in the universe can impede the march of society. It is 
like the rush of the river to the distant ocean, or the progress of 
sunlight to perfect day. 

All this, says my reader, or companion rather, may be very 
true ; but it is rather dull talk among the mountains. Look 
abroad over the face of Kature ; see how attractive it is, how grand 
and spirit-stirring, especially amid these sublime but beautiful 
Apennines. Softer and greener than the mountains of Switzerland, 
and falling far below them in height and majesty, they yet possess 
a grandeur of their own, softening at every step into the most 
delicate and entrancing beauty. The scattered cottages, poor 
enough in themselves, but rich in their garniture of trees and vines ; 
groups of peasantry here and there, poor as their mountain homes, 



ITALIANS. 149 



but with picturesque dresses, and in some instances fine forms , 
orchards and gardens scattered on the hillsides and in the plains — 
in one or two places, broken arches stretching from the mountain 
to the bottom of the valley ; in others, some monastery or convent, 
perched on the very summit of the rocky ridge ; frequent flowers 
and clumps of trees hanging over fountains, or dipping their green 
branches in pellucid pools asleep in the valleys ; goats clambering 
the rough precipice, or balancing themselves upon the topphng 
edge of a deep ravine ; the shout or song of shepherds echoing 
far and near amid the stillness of the mountains ; glad voices of 
children at play in the villages beneath ; and over all, the radiant 
sky burning like a chrysolite, and bathing the landscape with its 
ethereal hues— all combine to attract our attention, and thrill our 
hearts with bright and blessed thoughts. Oh, how delightful to 
turn away from the care and sorrow of earth, the turmoil of poli- 
tics, and the contests of ambition, to the quiet retreats of Nature, 
where God and man may meet and commune, without distraction 
and annoyance ! 

But here, perhaps, it may be well enough to describe our fel- 
low-travellers ; for their earnest talking has withdrawn us from 
our reveries. Right opposite sits a tall, military looking gentle- 
man, with a keen eye and handsome moustaches. As we learn 
from conversation, he is a native of Tuscany, and connected with 
the army, and although rather taller than the Tuscans generally, 
is a fair representative of his countrymen. His quick, dark eye, 
polished manners and vivacious temper well correspond to the 
idea which we have formed of their appearance and character. 
On one side is a well-made, grave, yet oheerful looking priest 
from Germany on his way to the Holy City. He is evidently in- 
telligent ; but, as we readily ascertain, bigotedly attached to the 
Papal church, with whose doctrines he seems famihar. Sitting 
beside him is a friar, sandalled and bareheaded, with a shaven 



150 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



crown, and a demure but rosy, good-natured look. He cons his 
breviary with remarkable ease and perseverance, but without the 
slightest appearance of devotion ; and now and then ventures a 
remark, indicating more sense than one would think he possessed. 
He belongs to the order of Franciscans, many of whom are fat and 
lazy ; a few lean and ascetic ; and others, and perhaps the greater 
number, proud and assuming. The Franciscans are, rather more 
than the other orders, devoted to preaching, but few of them pos- 
sess much learning or oratorical power. A few are earnest and 
impassioned speakers, and produce some effect upon their excita- 
ble hearers during the season of Lent, the great preaching time 
of the CathoUc church. On this side sits a Lombard merchant 
from Milan, the finest looking of them all, with a capacious fore- 
head, auburn hair and blue eyes, an expression of firmness and 
serenity about the mouth, a good clear voice, and a common- 
sense style of talking. Next to him is a little, fiery fellow, in 
black clothes, and a three-cornered hat, a Jesuit perhaps from the 
^NTeapolitan States, full of zeal for the holy Catholic, apostolical 
Church, and yet no great friend to Pope Pius the Ninth. All 
these are fair types of their respective countrymen, who have 
marked peculiarities which distinguish them from one another. This 
is especially the case with the Milanese merchant, who reminds 
us of the fine race who occupy the fertile vales of the Adige and 
the Po. Descended from the old Ostrogoths and Lombards, 
they possess considerable energy and worth of character. Not 
quite so impetuous as some of their southern neighbors, particu- 
larly the Romans and Neapolitans, the latter of whom have some 
infusion of Grecian and Moorish blood, the nations of northern 
Italy have more firmness and consistency of character, and are 
capable of great effort and endurance. They are the best sol- 
diers in Italy, and one of the most auspicious circumstances as to 
the prospects of ItaHan freedom and independence, is that this 



ITALIANS. 151 



question is yet to be settled on the plains of Lombardy. The 
Piedmontese on. one side and the Venetians on the other, differ 
somewhat from these ; the former being keen, worldly and pene- 
trating, and the latter ingenious and pleasure-loving. The Tus- 
cans are versatile and polished, the Romans thoughtful and aspir- 
ing, and the Neapolitans impetuous and fickle. 

But we are getting prosy again ; and the dihgenza, with jts six 
horses, and huge-booted, black-moustached postilhons, whooping, 
groaning, and spurring, is rattling down hill, and our friend the 
friar is reading his breviary so earnestly, that we fall back upon 
our cushioned seat, and let the fresh air of the cool valley which 
is receiving us blow upon our forehead, and the serene, festal 
aspect of the landscape steal into our heart. 

But our friends are getting loquacious, and the subject of their 
conversation, suggested by a remark of the German canon, on 
the present condition of Italy, turns upon the church. All are 
rigid Catholics, except the Lombard merchant, who, though ob- 
viously attached to the church of his fathers, distinguishes between 
its superstitions, and the great spirit of faith and love by which 
it ought to be animated. But the friar and canon, and especially 
the Jesuit, defend everything, and express the greatest horror of 
liberality, as leading to error and ruin. They confine salvation to 
the pale of the holy Catholic and apostolic Church, as they love 
to call it, and denounce Protestants as heretics and apostates. 

" But surely," we say, " you do not defend the superstitions of 
the Church — the pretended miracles, the holy coats, mystic amu- 
lets and heathen ceremonies, which every candid man in the nine- 
teenth century must acknowledge as errors and deformities." 

*' Sir," is the quick and somewhat offended reply, *' the 
Church has no superstitions, no pretended miracles, no heathen 
ceremonies." 

" Well now, tell us candidly," we rejoin, '' do you really believe 



152 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



that actual miracles are performed at the present day in the 
•Papal church ? Do priests generally believe them ? Do popes, 
cardinals, and bishops maintain their credibility ?" 

** Most assuredly they do/' is the decisive answer. 

To confirm this statement, the canon, aided by the Jesuit and 
friar, goes into a lengthened statement, too prosy and too absurd 
to be repeated, as to the occurrence of recent miracles in Italy, in 
one of which the Holy Virgin opened her eyes upon a young 
devotee who craved her aid ; another, in which she appeared, in 
glory, to some children on the mountains ; a third, in which she 
revealed herself to an infidel Jew, who was thereby converted ; 
and a fourth, in which she delivered a young man from the grasp 
of robbers and murderers ; how also certain holy women, in an 
ecstacy, received the stigmata of Christ — sacred wounds inflicted 
by an invisible hand, and resembling those on our Saviour's cru- 
cified body. 

Here we imagine that we discover a smile of derision on the 
lips of the Tuscan officer. Catholic as he is, and the Milan mer- 
chant absolutely laughs outright, to the great discomfiture of our 
priestly companions. 

To try them upon another point, we ask one question more : 

*' Do you really believe that the Catholic Church is the only 
true, universal church, and that all who die in her communion 
will certainly go to heaven ?" 

'' Undoubtedly," they all respond at once ; and the Jesuit is 
proceeding to give his reasons, when we cut the discussion short, 
by exclaiming, in a playful voice — 

" Well, well ! your view is undoubtedly consistent enough ; 
but for our part, we rejoice in the sublime and cheering thought, 
that the true church consists of all those, in any land, and in any 
sect or church, who believe in Jesus Christ, incarnate love and 
purity, breathe His spirit, and obey His laws. At all events, we 



FLORENCE. 153 



are disposed to think and act for ourselves in the matter of reli- 
gion, and willingly take our risk with the myriads of good and 
holy men, in all Protestant communions, who have blest the world 
with their love and zeal." 

To this our friend from Lombardy nods an emphatic assent ; 
while the canon, the friar, and the Jesuit enter their protest 
against it as heretical and dangerous, adding, that there is only 
one God, one Saviour, one church, and that said church can be 
none other than the holy Catholic church — a sentiment to which 
we inwardly assent, but not in the narrow and local sense of 
priestly assumption and bigotry. 

But polemics we dislike ; moreover, we have something better 
in prospect, for we are drawing near the capital of Tuscany. The 
increasing beauty of the country, the richness of the fields and 
gardens, the vines hanging in long and luxuriant festoons from 
the tall trees by the wayside, the smoothness of the roads, and 
the increase of travel, indicate our approach to a great city. Now 
we have attained the summit of the mountain ridge which encir- 
cles the magnificent natural amphitheatre in which stands the 
city of Florence, like Jerusalem of old amid her coronet of moun- 
tains ; and all at once it flashes upon our sight — palace, dome, 
and tower blushing like a bride in the warm light of a Tuscan 
sky. Yonder, towering above the rest of the city, is the cupola 
of the cathedral, the work of Brunelleschi, and the model upon 
which Michael Angelo formed the cupola of St. Peter's ; the beau- 
tiful Campinille, by Giotto, worthy, as Charles the Fifth declared, 
to be encased in gold ; and nearer, the Pitti palace, the gardens 
of the Boboli, and the Arno, " classic stream," on whose banks 
once wandered the youthful Milton, on his visit to Italy, '' framing 
Ovidian verse," and those other illustrious men, sculptors, paint- 
ers, and poets, who have shed over Florence and its environs the 
glory of poetical inspiration 
7* 



154 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Without crossing the Arno, and entering what may be called 
the heart of the city, we find a home for the present under the 
shadow of the Pitti palace, and not far from the Boboli gardens, 
in whose spacious and cool retreats we shall love to linger, in the 
liot summer day, or in the still and beautiful twilight, soothed by 
the noise of falling fountains, the music of evening bells, or the 
deep hum of the busy city. 

Florence, the city of flowers, as the name imports, has ever 
been a favorite with poets and travellers. And certainly, though 
not so magnificent as Rome, or so striking as Naples, it has a 
quiet beauty of its own, which instantly wins our regard. 

" Of all the cities of the earth 
None is so fair as Florence^ — 

is the enthusiastic expression of the gentle and classic Rogers, 
" the poet of Italy.'' 

"Florence, beneath the sun, 
Of cities fairest one, 
Blushes within her bower," 

is the yet more harmonious and striking language of Shelley. By- 
ron, too, was an enthusiastic admirer of Florence, and has embalmed 
its glory in the verses of '* Childe Harold." Ugo Foscolo has 
celebrated its graves, in his poem of ** The Sepulchres,'' a portion 
of which we have quoted in another part of this work. Macau- 
lay speaks of " the fair, the happy, the glorious Florence," as it 
was in the days of Lorenzo de Medici ; of '^ the halls which rung 
with the mirth of Pulci, the cell where twinkled the midnight 
lamp of Politian, the statues where the young aye of Michael 
Angelo -glowed with a kindred inspiration, and the gardens in 
which the young Lorenzo meditated some sparkling song for the 
May- day dance of the Etrurian virgins." 

It is obvious that much of the attraction with which Florence 



FLORENCE. 155 



is invested, is owing to association of ideas ; to the golden memo- 
ries of that old heroic time when Dante and Petrarch sang, and 
a new era of power and splendor dawned upon Italy. 

" Along the banks where smihng Arno sweeps, 

Was modern luxury of commerce borne, 
And buried learning rose, redeemed to a new morn." — Byron. 

But in addition- to its rich memories and hallowed associations, 
Florence has much in its situation, its pure air, its venerable as- 
pect, its massive but elegant buildings, its verdant gardens, and 
its peaceful river spanned wath handsome bridges, to inspire ad- 
miration. Its environs are among the finest in the world. Lying 
on the banks of the Arno, and stretching gradually to the tops 
of the mountains which gird it on every side, with green mead- 
ows, clustering vines, and clumps of trees ; dotted, in every part, 
with villas, cottages, convents, and towers ; invested w^ith the 
warm, rich coloring of an Italian sun ; the whole scene is one of 
rare and inspiring beauty. It contains the treasures of ancient 
and of modern art, the Venus de Medici, '' Eve of the land which 
yet is Paradise/' the Wrestler, the Niobe, the works of An^'elo, 
Cellini, RafFaele, Titian, Canova, and a host of others ; the tombs 
of the Medici ; the wonderful statues of ]^ight and Day ; the old 
Laurentian library, containing some rare and curious manuscripts, 
and among other things, a finger of Gahleo, preserved in a glass 
case, and pointing to the stars ; the old church of Santa Maria 
Novella, adorned with the radiant Madonna of Gimabue ; the 
bronze gates of the Baptistery, fit, according to Michael Angelo, 
to be the gates of paradise ; and above all, Santa Croce, the 
Westminster of Florence, where repose 

" Angelo's, Alfieri's bones, and his, 

The starry Gahleo with his woes ; 
Where Machiavelli's earth returned to whence it rose!* 



156 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



No wonder, then, if to imaginative minds the " Athens of Etru- 
ria" should possess so many charms ; and that the poets should 
unite in shedding over it ideal splendors. 

" Search within, 
Without; all is enchantment. 'Tis the past 
Contending with the present ; and in turn 
Each has the mastery." — Rogers, 

But we do not intend to weary our readers with a minute de- 
scription of Florence, attractive as the subject is; for this has 
been frequently done by others. Neither will we tire their 
patience with a long catalogue or attempted description of her 
artistic treasures. We will not say a word even of the Tribune, 
the Chapel de Depositi, the squares adorned with equestrian 
statues, nor of the vast museums of the Pitti palace. All this, 
and much more, we pass over as familiar to all. For, in good 
truth, these subjects have been written to perfect inanity by all 
sorts of tourists and sketchers who have seen but little else in 
their rapid flight through the country. It is the genius of Flor- 
ence (which in many respects is the genius of Italy) which at- 
tracts our attention. Her old heroic history, her spirit of wisdom 
and refinement, her dreams of glory, her long struggle for free- 
dom, her love of the beautiful, and above all the magnificent 
flowering of her poetical and artistic gemus, possess an interest 
and a charm of the highest and most ennobling kind. 

The history of Florence reminds us often of the history of 
Athens ; and yet it possesses a deeper interest, from the preva- 
lence of a new class of influences, and a new form of civilization. 
In the Tuscan Republic, not only the spirit of Grecian refinement, 
but also of Gothic strength and Christian virtue, came into con- 
tact with a thousand opposing obstacles, which resulted from the 
universal prevalence of ignorance, superstition and licentiousness. 



FLORENCE. I57 



Thus the forms of society and the elements of progress were 
more striking and energetic, and in their action and results more 
stupendous and far-reaching. For although Florence herself, as 
a republic, has passed away, and much of the grandeur and 
power of Christianity has been vitiated and overborne by those 
heathen and papal admixtures everywhere cherished in Italy ; 
yet the form of civilization wrought out in that land has diffused 
itself through the European world, and is yet destined to the 
highest triumphs even in Italy. We can discern in it a vitality 
which will yet cast off the wrappages of superstition, and emerge 
as from a tomb, glowing with immortal youth and vigor. So 
long as Christianity, in its great principles, whether contained in 
books or institutions, remains in a country, however covered up 
with the rubbish of superstition and vice, there is hope for that 
country. Lying in that crude mass, like the chrysalis in the dust, 
is an organic life, which, quickened by the sun of liberty, shall 
yet burst its cerements, and go forth, in celestial beauty, to bless 
the world. But Florence has seen many dark and stormy changes. 
She is not now, what she was in the days of old, although even 
then, far from realizing the idea of a free or a truly Christian re- 
public. She was born in the middle ages, in tempest and blood ; 
grew up, like a young giant, amid rapine and war, and held her 
liberties only by the stern hand of violence and crime. Yet her 
internal vigor was wonderful, and for a long series of years she 
mantained her integrity, and developed her resources with a 
genius and force such as the world has seldom seen. After all, 
her freedom was short-lived. It was based not upon virtue, but 
upon force ; upon expediency, '' not upon'' principle. Gothic 
feudalism contended with Christian democracy, Papal supremacy 
with repubhcan rule. Hence the constant struggle between the 
people and the nobles, between the Guelphs and Ghibellines, 
the power of the Emperor and the power of the Pope. Hence 



158 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



also the final supremacy of the Medici, and the loss of Florentine 
liberty. *' All republics," says Machiavelli, with admirable saga- 
city, in his history of Florence, book fourth — *' especially such as 
are not well constituted, undergo frequent changes in their laws 
and manner of government. And this is not owing -to the nature 
of liberty or subjection in general, as many think, but to down- 
right oppression on the one hand, or unbridled licentiousness on 
the other. For the name of liberty is often nothing more than a 
specious pretense, made use of by the instruments of licentious- 
ness, who, for the most part, are the commoners, and by the 
promoters of slavery, who generally are the nobles, each side 
being equally impatient of submission and restraint.'' 

This struggle between the people and the aristocracy, aggra- 
vated by the opposing interests of the Smperor and the Pope, 
ruined the liberties of all the .Italian republics. But the impulse 
received from their early freedom, and their struggles to maintain 
it, perpetuated itself during many years of ducal and imperial 
sway. So that the Republic of Florence, as it continued to be 
called, attained its highest degree of refinement and worldly 
splendor under the government of the Medici. In the fourteenth 
century '' the revenue of the republic amounted to three hundred 
thousand florins; a sum ^v'lich, allowing for the depreciation of 
the precious metals, was at least equivalent to six hundred thou- 
sand pounds sterling, (three millions of dollars ;) a larger sum 
than England or Ireland, tw^o centuries ago, yielded annually to 
Elizabeth ; a larger sum than, according to any computation we 
have seen, the Grand Duke of Tuscany now derives from a terri- 
tory of much greater extent. The manufacture of wool alone 
employed two hundred factories and thirty thousand workmen. 
The cloth annually produced sold, at an average, for twelve hun- 
dred thousand florins — a sum fairly equal, in exchangeable value, 
to two millions and a half of our money. Four hundred thou- 



FLORENCE. 159 



sand florins were annually coined. Eighty banks conducted the 
commercial operations, not of Florence only, but of all Europe. 
The transactions of those establishments were sometimes of a 
magnitude which may surprise even the contemporaries of the 
Barings and the Rothschilds. Two nouses advanced tu Edward 
the Third upwards of three hundred marks at a time when the 
mark contained more silver than fifty shillings of the present day, 
and when the value of silver was more than quadruple of what it 
now is. The city and its environs contained a hundred and 
seventy thousand inhabitants. In the various schools about ten 
thousand children were taught to read ; twelve hundred studied 
arithmetic ; six hundred received a learned education. The pro- 
gress of elegant literature and of the fine arts was proportioned 
to that of the public prosperity. Under the despotic successors 
of Augustus, all the fields of the intellect had been turned into 
arid wastes, still marked out by formal boundaries, still retaining 
the traces of old cultivation, but yielding neither flowers nor 
fruit. The deluge of barbarism came. It swept away all the land- 
marks ; it obliterated all the signs of former tillage. But it fer- 
tilized that which it devastated. When it receded, the wilderness 
was as the garden of the Lord, rejoicing on every side, laughing, 
clapping its hands, pouring forth, in spontaneous abundance, 
everything brilliant, or fragant, or nourishing."* 

The early part of the fifteenth century, the age of Lorenzo de 
Medici, justly styled the Pericles of Florence, was, if possible, . 
still more distinguished for wealth and splendor. Florence was 
the resort of learned men from all parts of Italy and the world ; 
her merchants were princes and corresponded with kings. Poets, 
orators and artists produced, in their highest perfection, the 
bright creations of their genius and art. The people yet en- 

* T. B. Macaulay ; Miscellanies, vol. i, p. S6. 



160 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



joyed a high degree of freedom ; the Medici professed to rule 
according to the spirit of the Republic, and claimed to be the 
guardians of the rights and liberties of the citizens. Guicciardini, 
styled the Tuscan Thucydides, describes the state of Italy at that 
time, in the following enthusiastic style :* '' Restored to supreme 
peace and tranquillity, cultivated no less in her most mountainous 
and sterile places than in her plains and more fertile regions, and 
subject to no other empire than her own, not only was she most 
abundant in inhabitants and wealth, but in the highest degree 
illustrious by the magnificence of many princes, by the splendor 
of many most noble and beautiful cities, and by the seat and ma- 
jesty of religion, she flourished with men pre-eminent in the ad- 
ministration of public affairs, and with genuises skilled in all the 
sciences, and in every elegant and useful art."f 

But an enfeebled faith and a boundless luxury begot venality 
and lust. The most shameless profligacy prevailed among the 
clergy, especially of the higher orders, the most outrageous self- 
ishness and ambition among the nobles. The common people 
were violent and disorderly ; the diff'erent republics coveted each 
other's possessions, and thirsted for each other's blood. The spirit 

^ Notwithstanding his celebrity, the prolixity of Guicciardini is proverbial 
in Italy. There was a criminal, we are told, who was permitted to make his 
choice between the reading of that author's History and the galleys. But 
the war of Pisa proved too much for him, and rather than wade through it, 
he was satisfied to live the life of a galley slave ! 

Italy is rich in historical writers. The names of Baronio, Bembo, Tirabos- 
chi, Muratori, Denina, Bossi, Giannone, Daru, Litta, Botta, Balbo, Cantu, and 
others, will occur to the student of Italian literature. Sismondi, though he 
wrote in French, is essentially Italian. Mccolini, the poet, is engaged on a 
history of the house of Suabia. Rosini, a successful novelist, has left ro- 
mance, for the more important task of historical painting Azeglio and 
Balbo are engaged in historical researches. 

f History of Florence, book I 



FLORENCE. 161 



of freedom took its flight, and Florence sunk in the gulf of des- 
potism and crime. Deceived and betrayed by her professed 
friends, especially by Leo the Tenth, and subsequently by Clement 
the Seventh, she fell under the dominion of a foreign power ; and 
a long night of oppression and sorrow ensued. This indeed was 
the state of things over the whole of the Italian peninsula. It was 
the consummation of papal ambition and imperial lust,in those beau- 
tiful cities, once the home of the free and the hope of the world. 
In the modern partition of Italy, Florence with Tuscany fell 
into the hands of a member of the House of Hapsburg, under 
whose reign, not over liberal or wise, the country has somewhat 
prospered. Yet it is poor and heavily taxed. Until recentl}^ 
lotteries and all sorts of gambling, aided by superstitious usages, 
have been supported as a source of revenue by the State. But 
the Grand Duke of Tuscany has had sagacity enough to advance 
with the spirit of the age. For an Austrian his course has been fair. 
To secure himself, he has conceded a liberal Constitution. Osten- 
sibly the press is free, and religious toleration is promised to all. 
But whether the provisions of this Constitution will be carried out, 
remains to be seen. The greatest enthusiasm for liberty prevails 
among the people. Literature and the arts have revived, and a 
new era is obviously breaking upon Tuscany. But we are startled 
by the news that the Grand Duke, following, we presume, his Aus- 
trian instincts, has fled from Tuscany, as Pope Pius from Rome, 
and that a Republican government has been proclaimed in Florence. 
The progress of reform was going too far to suit his ducal dignity. 
The Pope threatened excommunication, and in all probability Aus- 
tria threatened something worse. Doubtless he hopes to return, 
with the conquering armies of Austria ; and perhaps he may. 
*t * * * * 

The Duke has returned, and Florence falls under the same 
despotism with Milan, Venice, and Rome. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Florence distinguished in Literature — Dante and " The Divina Commedia" — 
His character and genius — Early days — Portrait — Beatrice and the " Yita 
Kuova" — Wanderings — Controlling spirit and object of his Life — His 
Death — Honors — Extraordinary Genuis — Real import of the Commedia — 
Dante and Michael Angelo — Characteristics of Dante's poetry — Origin of 
the Commedia — Its general character and aim. 

Florence is rich in literature ; richer indeed than any other Italian 
city. With the single exception of Ferrara, it has produced more 
men of genius than all the rest put together. Taken in connec- 
tion with her great men, her literature illustrates her moral and 
political history, and some knowledge of the one is essential to 
a just conception of the other. Indeed every civilized people 
embodies its genius and hfe in literature. This evermore is the 
blossoming of character, the flowering of that vital root which 
lives in the heart of the community. 

The earliest and greatest poet of Florence is Dante Alighieri, 
author of the Divina Commedia, or the Vision of Hell, Purgatory 
and Paradise, one of the greatest poems in any language, and yet 
one of the most. singular compounds of truth and error, of beauty 
and deformity. If, however, we make allowance for its narrow 
views^ its superstitious fancies, and intense bigotries, as due rather 
to the age than to the man, we shall be compelled to acknowledge 
it one of the sublimes t epics that ever was written. Severe, 
gloomy and cumbrous, it is yet radiant with the light of genius. 
Stern as the fanaticism of the dark ages, it contains pictures of 



DANTE. 163 



truth and virtue the most vivid and entrancing. At times the 
author seems absolutely inspired. Brief, rapid, condensed, burn- 
ing with heat and beauty, his language rushes and sparkles, like 
the molten lava, on a dark night, from the crater of ^tna or Ve- 
suvius. To peruse some portions of the Commedia, is actually 
like descending into the infernal regions, or wandering amid the 
stars of light. The rapt reader is compelled to hold his breath 
in alternate horror and delight. True, every now and then, we 
are shocked with some strange sentiment, some superstitious fig- 
ment — some atrocious bigotry. ISTot unfrequently we are bewil- 
dered with extravagant metaphysics or still more extravagant 
theology, yet all the while awed by the spirit of grandeur and 
beauty, gleaming out upon our vision, like stars through the gloom, 
or the faces of angels amid the clouds of heaven. Then again, 
after a long and fatiguing journey through the storm and dark- 
ness of the Inferno, we come to some scene of cool refreshment 
or serene beauty, some terrestrial paradise, it may be, in the wide 
waste of horror ; we listen, amid the groans and shudderings of 
the lost, to angel voices or the w^ailing melody of the pitying min- 
strel, bathe our eyes in celestial dews, and then catch vivid 
glimpses of the distant fields of light ; by which, invigorated and 
cheered, we gradually ascend, as on the wings of the morning, to 
mingle with the spirits of the just, and lose ourselves in the bea- 
tific vision of the upper heaven. 

As Mont Blanc not only rises far above his fellows, but is often 
crowned with light, while the rest of the world is reposing in 
shadow, so Dante not only rises far above all his contemporaries, 
and indeed above all the poets of Italy, ancient or modern, but 
seems invested with a supernal radiance, as if he held communion 
with a higher sphere. Yet, like Mont Blanc, he is of '' the earth, 
earthy/' " His foundation is in the dust." In him the fiercest 
fanaticism is mingled witli the widest sympathy, the most intol- 



164 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



erant passion with the gentlest love. On acquaintance, however, 
you forgive everything, forget everything, just as in gazing upon 
the Alps at sunrise or at sunset, you forget that their rosy sum- 
mits form a part of the dull earth, and imagine that they must 
be the very portals of eternal day, so near to heaven they seem, 
and so radiant with the beauty which comes from afar. 

All the darkness of Dante's inferior nature is thus forgotten, or 
if you please, absorbed in the ravishing splendor which he caught 
from a higher world. His Beatrice, once human, becomes divine ; 
the incarnation of truth and beauty, the very sum and essence of 
eternal goodness, purity, and joy. All in her and about her is 
transfigured and glorified. The love of heaven burns in her se- 
rene orbs, the joy of God trembles in her ineffable smile. So 
also his fierce judgments both of the living and the dead, his in- 
tolerant scorn of his enemies, and the burning sarcasm which he 
heaps upon the lost, assume the character of heavenly justice, 
stern and awful as that of God. This doubtless is owing to the 
intense vividness of his imagination, and the overpowering force 
of his language, exceeding in this respect all the uninspired poets 
of ancient or of modern times. Indeed, from his profound sin- 
cerity and tragic earnestness, Dante becomes to us a sort of spirit- 
ual being, having a greater affinity both with angels and devils, 
than with living men and women. It is scarcely the man Dante 
that penetrates the shadowy circles of the Inferno, and then as- 
cends, with a serene, airy motion, towards the light of Paradise. 
It is rather the spirit of Dante, or a spirit in the form . of Dante, 
a sort of half-human, half-divine Mephistopheles, that glides with 
such unresisting might, first amid the horrors of the bottomless 
pit, and then amid the glories of heaven. Hence, also, everything 
which he describes, even the most grotesque and horrible, appears 
as if it must be true and real, so clear, so palpable he makes it. 
" Surely this man/' said the old women of Yerona, who, in his 



DANTE. 165 



dark complexion, sharp features, and frizzled locks, imagined they 
saw the traces of his exposure to the smoke and heat of the in- 
fernal regions, " surely this man has seen and touched the horrors 
he depicts.'' But Dante reached first the terrestrial, and then 
the heavenly Paradise ; and, as if he had never seen the horrors of 
hell, lingered long amid the unutterable joys of the Divine pres- 
ence ; so that the last impression which he leaves upon us is that 
of a purified spirit, a large-hearted, ethereal, contemplative angel, 
who has seen the face not only of the glorified Beatrice, but of 
the uncreated God. 

In this way, the author of the Divina Commedia has become 
ideahzed in our minds as the poet of Paradise. That stern and 
melancholy countenance of his at last glows with unearthly joy, 
and smiles upon us from the highest heaven. 

" Forth from the last corporeal did He come 
Into the heaven that is unbodied light, 
Light intellectual, replete with love ; 
Love of true happiness, replete with joy ; 
Joy that transcends all sweetness of delight."* 

Dante was born in Florence, on the 14th of May, 1265, sixty- 
three years before the birth of Chaucer, the morning-star of Eng- 
lish poetry, and about three centuries before that of Shakspeare. 
He was thus the child of the middle ages, and in none did that 
strange and stirring period more gloriously mirror itself. Indeed, 
the character and poetry of Dante may be regarded as the richest 
flowering of the mediaeval spirit. This was the age of Thomas 
Aquinas and Father Bonaventura, of Arabian poetry and Proven- 
cal song. Dante loved them both, and thus mingles the subtleties 
of seraphic doctors with the dreams of fablicists and troubadours ; 

* Paradise, canto xxx. 



166 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



the stern seventies of persecuting monks with the soft amenities 
of poetry and love. He belonged to the Church of St. Dominic 
and Francis D'Assizi, and yielded consequently to the bigotries 
and superstitions of the times ; but his inner creed, derived from 
the pure principles of Christianity, was true and beautiful, and 
shed over his stormy career, and yet more stormy verse, the hght 
and glory of Heaven. 

His youth was spent in Florence, amid the activity and splen- 
dor of that changeful and ambitious republic. Losing his father 
in early life, he was placed under the care of guardians, who se- 
cured for him the amplest means of mental and physical disci- 
pline. 

His progress in literary and philosophical studies was surpris- 
ing. At ^ the age of eighteen he had shown such a genius for 
poetry as to attract the friendship of many distinguished men ; 
among others, of Guido Cavalcanti, a young nobleman of high 
accomplishments and poetical temperament, and of Giotto, who 
painted his portrait. This long-lost portrait was discovered in 
the Bargello at Florence, in 1841, and presents him in his youth- 
ful vigor. Judging from this, he must have been eminently hand- 
some, with noble and expressive features, full of sensibility and 
sweetness. A shade of thoughtfulness, .and even of melancholy, 
lingers in the lustrous eyes and chiselled mouth, but the prevail- 
ing expression is that of dignity and gentleness. Tall and swar- 
thy, with dark eyes and black hair, lofty forehead and serene 
mouth, he seems the beau-ideal of manly strength and beauty. 
But care and sorrow, in subsequent life, greatly changed his ap- 
pearance. His features, yet noble and striking, became sharp 
and angular, his eyes sunken, his hair matted, his brow wrinkled, 
and his mouth severe and mournful, yet with a wonderful expres 
sion of dignity, purity, and power. 

Even in his youth, although buoyant as others, the nature of 



DANTE. 167 

Dante was strong, brooding and sensitive. At the early age of 
nine he became enamored of Beatrice Portanari, ''the gentle 
Bice," as he loved to call her, whom he had met at her father's 
house. With azure eyes, '* soft as a dove's'* and penetrating '' as 
an eagle's," " amber tresses," where '' love doth lie," "a spacious 
forehead" — 

" radiant with truth, 
White fingers, even nose and eyebrow smooth 
And brown, as though it had been pencilled there ;" 

above all, the blended "gentleness and majesty" of her entire 
mien — 

" Divinely tinctured with a pearl-like hue, 
Gentle and sweet to view, 

With looks of scorn, where scornfuiness were meet ; 
Meek, unpretending, self-controlled, and still 
With sense instinctive shrinking from all ill :" 

it is no marvel if Dante beheld in her all attributes of excellence 
and beauty. Her very gait, if we may believe the young enthu- 
siast, was that of an angel ! 

" Onward she moves clothed with humility 
Hearing with look benign her praises sung — 
A being seeming sent from heaven, among 
Mankind to show what heavenly wonders be." 

A^ether she reciprocated his passion is not known ; indeed, it is 
altogether uncertain whether he ever ventured to declare it. At 
all events she was married to another, and died in early life. 
Dante never forgot her. Her image haunted him like a vision of 
paradise. It awoke in him a new life. Mingling even in his de- 
votions, as the type of innocence and eternal purity, it formed 
the guiding star of his destiny. Like Burns's " Mary in heaven," 



168 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



the glorified Beatrice drew his affections *' beyond the visible di- 
urnal sphere." Her relations to earth were forgotten. All in 
her that was human vanished from his sight. He saw her only 
as the favorite of Heaven, the beau-ideal of uncreated and eter- 
nal beauty. It is true that in after Hfe he wedded another; but 
there is no good evidence to believe that he ever cherished for 
Beatrice aught but the purest feelings. Evermore he heard her 
gentle voice chiding his folhes and wooing him to virtue. Ever- 
more he beheld her glorified form, in the dim future, beckoning 
him to immortality. Often falling into temptation, sorely buffet- 
ed by the storms of adversity, tortured by contempt and shame, 
and yielding, too frequently, to the tempestuous passions of his 
heart, he never turned his eye from Beatrice, and the high goal 
of perfection and repose which she had reached before him. The 
real was transformed into the ideal, the natural into the divine — 
hope sprang from disappointment, and desire itself became idola- 
try and worship. Brighter and brighter grew the vision — stronger 
and stronger the attraction, from the first dream of his earthly 
love, to its last triumph amid the agonies of death. So far from 
alienating his heart from God and duty, as human loves are wont 
to do, his passion for Beatrice, sublimated by ethereal fancy, dis- 
solved the ties which bound him to earth, and impelled him to- 
wards heaven. Indeed, after her death, Beatrice never appeared 
to Dante except as '* a blessed spirit," 

" Where angels dwell and are at peace." 

In the beautiful dirge which he wrote on the occasion of her 

death, he says : 

" Forth, from the lowly habitation where 
Supreme in grace it dwelt, her soul is gone, 
And in a worthy place shines starry bright." 



DANTE. 169 



Of all this he had some presentiment in a singular waking dream 
or trance, which just preceded the sad event. He had been sick, 
and, on one occasion, imagined himself dead. " At last," he says, 
m his Vita Nuova, or New Life, wherein he gives an account of 
his affection for Beatrice, and its influence upon his character, 
'* At last I came to this point, that I knew not where I was, and 
it seemed to me as though I beheld women passing before me 
weeping, and with dishevelled hair marvellously sad ; and me- 
thought I saw the sun darkened, so that the stars were visible, 
and of a color which made me think they wept ; and methought 
the birds, as they flew along, fell dead, and that the earth quaked 
fearfully. And as I lay wonder-stricken at these fantasies, and 
grievously alarmed, I imagined that a friend came to me and said, 
* Dost thou not know that thy admirable lady has departed from this 
world ?' Thereupon I fell to weeping most piteously, and I wept 
not only in imagination, but with my eyes — bathing them with 
veritable tears. Then methought I looked towards heaven, and 
it seemed as though I beheld a multitude of angels, who were as- 
cending upwards, and before them they carried a little cloud of 
exceeding whiteness. To me it appeared that those angels were 
singing gloriously, and the words of their song, methought, were 
these : Osanna in excelsis ; and other than that I did not hear. 
Then it seemed to me that my heart, wherein is so much love, 
said to me, * It is true that our lady lieth dead !' And upon this, 
methought I went to behold the body, in which that most noble 
and blessed spirit had been. And such force had my erring fancy, 
that it showed me this lady dead ; and it seemed to me that wo- 
men were covering her head with a white veil ; and her features 
wore such an aspect of humility, that they seemed to say, ' Now 
do I behold the beginning of peace !' While in this trance an 
humility so profound seized me on beholding her, that I called 
upon death and said, ' Come to me like a churl, forasmuch as it 
8 



170 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



behooveth thee to be gentle, seated where thou art. Then come 
to me, that do desire thee so much. Thou seest that already I 
wear thy colors.' And when I had seen all the mournful myste- 
ries completed, which are wont to be performed to the bodies of 
the dead, methought I turned into my chamber, and there me- 
thought I looked up to heaven ; and so patient was my imagina- 
tion that I began to weep and cry with my veritable voice, * Oh 
most lovely soul, how blest is he that beholds thee !' And utter- 
ing these words with heavy sobs of woe, and calling on death to 
come to me, a young and noble lady, who was at the side of my 
couch, thinking that my words were lamentations caused by the 
pain of my disorder, was seized with great alarm and began to 
weep, whereupon certain other ladies who were in the chamber, 
perceived that I was weeping by the tears which they saw her 
shed, and having made this lady, who was the most nearly allied 
to me by blood, to leave my side, they drew near to wake me, 
thinking that I dreamt, and told me ' to sleep no more, and not to 
disquiet myself.' Hearing them accost me thus, the potent fancy 
ended, just as I was on the point of saying, ' Oh Beatrice, mayst 
thou be blest !' And already had I said ' Oh Beatrice,' when, 
recovering myself, I opened my eyes and saw that I had been 
deceived." 

In this singular waking vision, as it may be termed, we dis- 
cover the germ of the Divina Commedia, a view corroborated 
by the closing paragraph of the Vita JSTuova : " But I deter- 
mined," says he, " to write no more of this divine saint, until I 
should be able to write of her more worthily ; and of a surety 
she knows that I study to attain to "this with all my powers. So 
if it shall please Him, by whom all things live, to spare my life 
for some years longer, I hope to say that of her which never yet 
hath been said of any lady. And then may it please Him who is 
the Father of all good, to suffer my soul to see the glory of its 



DANTE. 171 



mistress, that is, of the sainted Beatrice, who now, abiding in 
glory, looketh upon the face of Him, qui est per omnia secula hene- 
dictus.^^ 

Dante, notwithstanding his poetry and dreams, mingled freely 
with his fellow -citizens, and acquired high distinction in the Re- 
public. Near the church of San Giovanni, a stone seat used to 
be pointed out, where in his prosperous days he was wont to sit, 
of a summer afternoon, conversing gaily with his friends and 
associates. 

" On that ancient seat, 
The seat of stone that runs along the wall 
South of the church, east of the belfry tower, 
(Thou canst not miss it,) in tlie sultry time, 
Would Dante sit conversing, and with those 
Who little thought that in his hand he held 
The balance, and assigned at his good pleasure 
To each his place in the invisible world." — Rogers. 

He loved 'to wander, sometimes alone, and sometimes in com- 
pany, in and about the Baptistery. It was here that he broke 
the marble of the baptismal font into which a child had acci- 
dentally fallen ; a mishap ascribed by his enemies to evil motives, 
and from which he so strikingly clears himself, in the last line of 
the following singular comparison. Describing the wells or pits 
in which simoniacal offenders, and among others no less a man 
than Pope Nicholas III, head downward, were tormented with 
flames that flashed from heel to toe along the upturned soles of 
their feet, he says : 

" The sides and bottom of that livid rock 
Were scooped into round holes of equal size, 
Which seemed not less nor larger than the fonts 
For baptism in my beautiful St. John's ; \ 

And one of which, not many years ago, 



172 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



I broke to save a drowning child from death: 
Be this my seal to undeceive the world."* 

Like all thinkers, however, Dante loved solitude, and was 
sometimes accused of unsocial habits. His mind was intense and 
sensitive, eager for knowledge and panting for glory. Boccaccic 
states that, on one occasion, being in Siena, and unexpectedly- 
finding at a shop window a book which he had not seen, but 
which he had long desired, he placed himself on a bench before 
the door, at nine o'clock in the morning, and never removed his 
eyes from the volume until vespers, when he had run through 
the whole contents, with such absorption as to have entirely dis- 
regarded the festivities of processions and music, which had been 
passing through the streets the greater part of the day, and on 
being questioned as to what had happened in his presence, he 
denied having knowledge of anything except what he had been 
reading. In company, sometimes he scarcely uttered a word, 
but when he did speak it was with an energy and brilliancy which 
astonished the listeners. His mind, indeed, was so intense and 
imaginative that, at times, he seems to have almost believed the 
creations of his own genius. How natural, for example, and how 
striking the following ; especially the lines at the close, where he 
ascribes, like the old women of Verona, the duskiness of his 
visage to " the infernal air'' of the lower regions : 

" High morn had triumphed o*er the glimmering dawn 
Which fled before her, so that I discerned 
The tremble of the ocean from afar : 
We walked along the solitary plain, 
Like men retracing their erratic steps, 
Who think all lost till they regain the path. ' 

* DeU'Inferno, canto xix. 



DANTE. 1Y3 



Arriving where the dew-drops with the sun 
Contended, and lay thick beneath the shade, 
Both hands my Mentor delicately spread 
Upon the grass ; aware of his intent, 
I turned to him my tearful countenance, 
And thence he wiped away the dusky hue. 
With which the infernal air had sullied it."* 



But the passionate and disdainful nature of Dante needed action 
as well as thought. Hence we find him acquiring high distinction 
in political life, and fighting, with heroic energy, at the battle of 
Campaldino. He was made prior of the city of Florence, one of 
the highest offices in its gift. But to this he ascribed all the 
calamities of his subsequent life. Of a proud and impulsive 
temper, he made many enemies ; and moreover, being embroiled 
in the factions which distracted the whole of Italy, and especially 
Florence, he was exposed to the vengeance of the dominant 
party, to which he originally belonged,* but which, with apparent 
inconsistency, he violently opposed. The immediate occasion of 
his banishment was a deadly feud between two opposing factions, 
who held undisputed sway in Florence, one of whom was expell- 
ed from the city, by the authority of Dante. Availing himself 
of this state of things, the Pope succeeded in sending into Flor- 
ence Charles of Valois, who, under the pretense of friendship, 
made himself dictator, recalled the Neri, and banished the Bian- 
chi, with whom Dante was identified. 

Then commenced his bitter exile and long wanderings, during 
which he proved, in his own expressive words, 

" How salt another's bread is, and the toil 
Of going up and down another's stairs." i 

* Purgatorio, canto i. 



174 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



This occurred in his thu^ty-seventh year. The calamity was im-* 
mense and overwhehning ; for he was not only banished, but his 
property was confiscated, and his hous^e burned to the ground. 
Subsequently he was condemned to be burned alive, if he should 
venture to return, or fall into the power of his enemies.* 

The age of Dante, though splendid and spirit-stirring, as a 
transition from chaos and darkness to order and light, was one of 
violence and blood. Popes and bishops mingled in the strife of 
ambition ; and even the best men of the age, Dante among the 
rest, were not free from the spirit of lust and revenge. Murders 
and assassinations were of common occurrence. The rancors of 
the Guelphs and Ghibellines, the one the party of the Pope, the 
other of the Emperor, were deep-rooted and violent. Family 
feuds were vehement and bloody. Woe then to the man upon 
whom rested the ban of a dominant faction ! No prayers or tears, 
no threatenings or adjurations avail him aught. He can never 
return to his home. In sorrow and anguish must he wander, 
among strangers, with no rest but the grave. Behold then the 
noble citizen, the warrior and poet, '* stricken, smitten and afflict- 
ed," clad in his gray cassock, his stern brow hidden under an 
'^ uncomely cowl," his visage pale, care-worn and stern, moving 
about from place to place, for the space of nineteen years, long- 
ing all the while to see his beloved Florence, but never permitted 
to approach its gates. 

We enter into no detail of this melancholy period of Dante's 
history, as the facts in reference to it are extremely meagre and 
uncertain. He found a temporary home, for brief seasons, at the 
houses of his friends and admirers. Occasionally he met with kind 



* This exasperation of feeling is owing in part to the fact, that after his 
banishment Dante, with Petracco iel Ancisa and other Ghibellines, made an 
unsuccessful attack on Florence, 



DANTE. 176 

treatment and high distinction. But most of the time he had no 
*' certain abiding place," and on some occasions was subjected to 
the severest straits. It is even thought that on one emergency- 
he suffered for the want of bread ; and there is a terrible intima- 
tion in one part of the Commedia, that, " wrapped in his cloak," 
with " face averted," he held out his hand, in the market-place, 
for bread ! 

But all the while he was meditating his divine poem, and 
dreaming of Beatrice and heaven. This was his solace in *' the 
waste howling wilderness," through which he was passing, as a 
pilgrim to his own immortal paradise. There is a letter, said to 
be nearly coeval with the time of Dante, and in the handwriting 
of Boccaccio, from the prior of a monastery to a celebrated Ghi- 
belline leader, a friend of Dante, which throws an interesting 
light upon this fact. The writer says, that he perceived one day 
a man coming into the monastery, whom none of its inmates 
knew. He asked him what he wanted, but the stranger making 
no reply, and continuing to gaze on the building as though con- 
templating its architecture, the question was put a second time, 
upon which, looking round upon his interrogators, he answered, 
" Peace !" The prior, whose curiosity was excited, took the stranger 
aside, and discovering who he was, showed him all the attention 
becoming his fame ; and then Dante took a little book out of his 
bosom, and observing that perhaps the prior had not seen it, ex- 
pressed a wish to leave it with his new friend as a memorial. *' It 
was a portion," he said, " of his work." The prior received the 
volume with respect, and politely opening it at once, and fixing 
his eyes on the contents, in order, it would seem, to show the in- 
terest which he took in it, appeared suddenly to check some 
observation which they suggested. Dante found that his reader 
was surprised at seeing the work written in the vulgar tongue 
instead of Latin, He explained that he wished to address him- 



176 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



self to readers of all classes ; and concluded with requesting the 
prior to add some notes, with the spirit of which he furnished 
him, and then forward it (transcribed, it is supposed, by the 
monks) to their common friend, the Ghibelline chieftain — a com- 
mission which, knowing the prior's intimacy with that personage, 
appears to have been the main object of his coming to that place. 

Dante made several efforts to obtain a restoration to his native 
city ; but without success. It was indeed proposed to grant him 
this boon, on condition of his submitting to humiliating conces- 
sions. Of course he rejected the proposal with disdain. But he 
never ceased to think of Florence with the yearning love of early 
years. In his Convito he remarks, on one occasion, with reference 
to some harhsness and obscurity in his style, that it ought to be 
excused, in consideration of the unfavorable circumstances in 
which he wrote, and adds most affectingly : " For it pleased the 
citizens of the fairest and most renowned daughter of Rome- 
Florence — to cast me out of her most sweet bosom, where I was 
born and bred, and passed half of the life of man, and in which, 
with her good leave, I still desire with all my heart to repose 
my weary spirit, and finish the days allotted me ; and so I have 
wandered in almost every place to which our language extends, 
a stranger, almost a beggar, exposing against my will the wounds 
given me by fortune, too often unjustly imputed to the sufferer's 
fault. Truly, I have been a vessel without sail or rudder, driven 
about upon different ports and shores by the dry wind that 
springs out of dolorous poverty ; and hence I have appeared vile 
in the eyes of many, who perhaps, by some better report, had 
conceived of me a different impression, and in whose sight not 
only has my person become thus debased, but an unworthy 
opinion created of everything which I did or which I had to do." 

If Dante did not always express himself in this touching and 
lofty strain — ^if sometimes he gave way to the harshest recrimina- 



DANTE. 177 



tions, and the most violent invectives — it is to be ascribed to the 
cruelty of his enemies and the sharpness of his grief. It is a 
wonder indeed that he did not go mad altogether, and end his 
days by dagger or poison, as many did in that tempestuous age. 
But he had a great work to perform, and this it was which really 
sustained him in his exile. Calmly and constantly, in the house 
and by the way, he labored on, building up his immortal epic, in 
the certain conviction that it would live through all coming time. 

His last home was at the court of Ravenna, where, in the ser- 
vice of Guido Novella Polenta, himself a poet, and a munificent 
benefactor of men of letters, the father too of Francesca da Ri- 
mini, whose passionate love, and melancholy end, are embalmed in 
the Commedia, he spent some peaceful years But the iron had 
entered his soul, and being unsuccessful in an embassy to Venice, 
which he undertook on behalf of his patron, he died broken- 
hearted, September 14th, 1321. It was the day of the Holy 
Cross. " And perhaps a solemn anthem was the last sound that 
reached the ears of the dying man, when, between life and death, 
he 'beheld eyes of light that wandered ake stars.'"* He was 
buried in Ravenna with the highest honors, his noble patron him- 
self pronouncing his funeral eulogium. 

Too late Florence repented of her cruelty to her noblest citi- 
zen. Embassy upon embassy was sent to Ravenna to claim the 
remains of Dante, but the inhabitants of that city were too proud 
of the treasure to give it up. Guido Polenta intended to erect a 
gorgeous monument over his grave, but he did not live to exe- 
cute his design, being driven from his dominions, and dying in 
exile at Bologna. A hundred and fifty years after, Bernardo 
Bembo, father of the celebrated cardinal, completed Polenta's 
design ; and three centuries after that, Gonzaga raised a second 

* Longfellow. 
8* 



178 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



and more magnificent monument in the same place; while in 
Florence a very beautiful and striking monument, by Ricci, has 
recently been erected in the old church of Santa Croce, near the 
tombs of Machiavelli, Angelo and Alfieri. The greatest honors 
formerly conferred on his memory by his native city were the 
restoration to his family of his confiscated property, after a lapse 
of forty years, the erection of a bust crowned with laurel, at the 
public expense, and the appointment of a public lecturer, to ex- 
pound the mysteries and beauties of the Divina Commedia. This 
office was first held by the celebrated Boccaccio. Similar insti- 
tutions were founded in Bologna, Pisa, Venice and other Italian 
cities ; so that in two centuries the highest renown was heaped 
upon the man, who '' lived by sufferance and died in exile." After 
all, it is only within a few generations that the genius of Dante 
has been thoroughly appreciated by his own countrymen ; and 
now they are in danger of cherishing for him an excess of venera- 
tion, copying his faults as well as his virtues. Foscolo has de- 
fended him with ability and enthusiasm ; Mariotti and others 
have written eloquently in his praise. Some foreign writers, 
among whom the celebrated French critics Ginguene and Ville- 
main stand pre-eminent, have done justice to his extraordinary 
genius ; while others, among whom is Leigh Hunt have mingled 
with their admiration much vituperative and contemptuous re- 
mark. Sir Walter Scott, who was more distinguished for his 
genial fancy, practical good sense, and power of depicting man- 
ners, than for profound thought or refined sensibilty, after read- 
ing a few pages of Gary's Dante, threw it down in disgust ! 
Robert Hall, who possessed a higher range of thought and a 
keener taste, it is said, made himself acquainted with Italian, for 
the sole purpose of reading the Gommedia in the original. Mac- 
aulay says it is the only poem worthy of being compared with 
Milton's Paradise Lost. Tieck calls it " a mystic, unfathomable 



DANTE. 179 



song." ''I know of nothing/' says Carlyle, "so intense as 
Dante. His painting/' he adds, "is not graphic only, but brief, 
true, and of a vividness as of fire in a dark night ; taken on the 
wider -scale, it is every way noble, and the outcome of a great 
soul. On the whole, is it not an utterance, this mystic song, at 
once of one of the greatest of human souls, and of the highest 
thing that Europe had hitherto realized for itself?'* 

It may be allowed that Dante is somewhat unfortunate in his 
supernatural machinery ; his representations of the invisible 
world by no means correspond with those of Holy Writ ; he 
adopts, of course, the theology of the middle ages, and praises as 
saints of the purest water, such men as Folco and Dominic, the 
keenest persecutors of the age. He puts unbaptized infants, as 
well as infidels, in hell, and describes with a relish the roasting 
of heretics ; he mingles also with his visions, many absurd and 
fantastic shapes, and not unfrequently indulges in expressions of 
fierce passion and revenge. After all, his poem is penetrated 
with the deepest energy of genius, and glows with a beauty less 
of earth than of heaven. It is most " musical, most melancholy," 
like the song of angels or of glorified spirits. 

Then again Dante ought to have the benefit of the obvious 
allegorical character of the entire Cdmmedia — a circumstance 
generally overlooked, and not sufficiently taken into account even 
by his admirers. His visions are not meant for veritable or 
literal realities, though they appear such ; but rather as forms of 
thought, symbols or figures, such as he could command, for en- 
shrining the great and thrilling ideas of his poetical soul. Upon 
this point Dante's own words are express. 

" All ye whose minds are heathfully attuned, 
Admire and prize the noble truths that lie 
Wrapt in the mystic veil of poetry." 



180 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



" voi ch'avete gli intelliti sani 
Mirate la dottrina ch'asconde 
Sotto le velame degli versi strani." 

In a letter to one of his friends, accompanied by his poem, he 
says : " It is to be remarked that the sense of this work is not 
simple ; but on the contrary, one may say, manifold. For the 
very sense is that which it derives from the things signified by 
the language ; the one literal, the other allegorical. The subject, 
of the whole work, taken literally, is the condition of the soul 
after death. But if you will observe the express words, you will 
easily perceive that, in an allegorical sense, the poet is treating of 
this hell, in which, journeying on like travellers, we may deserve 
reward or punishment." 

Rosetti, author of " the Antipapal Spirit," and the beautiful 
poem of " Iddio e rUomo !" — '* Behold the ManT affirms that it 
was Dante's intention to read mankind a great moral lesson, by 
setting forth in his description of the guilty Babylon, the vices of 
the court of Rome of his time ; to represent, in the horrors of hell, 
the punishment awaiting these crimes, and in the bliss of Para- 
dise, the return to more virtuous days. He finally regards Bea- 
trice as the personification of morality or theology. But this 
view is too narrow and jejune. In no respect can it be made to 
correspond with the character and history of Dante's mind. He 
revealed, it is true, the horrors of papal usurpation, and scourges 
the guilty occupants of St. Peter's chair, with just and terrible 
severity; but this occupies a very small portion of his great 
poem, wfeich sweeps the whole field of human action, and passes 
on into the retributions of eternity. It is, in fact, Dante's own 
life and destiny, in connection with that of mankind generally, 
and particularly that of his own age, which he would describe ; the 
progress, so to speak, ,of sinful man, through all forms of disci- 



DANTE. 181 



pline and wretchedness, to the final glory of the celestial state. 
Hence he begins his progress under the guidance of Yirgil, the 
appropriate symbol of human wisdom ; passes through the re- 
gions of the InfernOy where he meets his own countrymen and 
contemporaries suffering for their crimes ; from which he gradu- 
ally ascends to a purer region, under the care of Beatrice, the 
'ymbol of divine or heavenly wisdom ; and lands, after various 
stages of ascent and glory, in the beatific vision of God. In this 
view we are sustained by Foscolo, who conceives that "the 
great drama of human life," and '' not the abuses of the papacy 
alone," forms the real subject of the Divina Commedia. On this 
account Dante has been styled " the historian of his age," '* the 
voice of ten centuries," "the prophet of his country," the 
" painter of mankind in general," who calls all our faculties into 
action, "to reflect on all the vicissitudes of the world." The 
forms or symbols, in which all this is expressed, are pure creations 
of the poet*s mmd, and however grotesque some of them are, 
they veil an import of the highest significance, and indicate the 
vivid and all-embracing genius of their author. In this consists 
the most decisive proof of Dante's inventive power. His pictures 
are perfectly original, and yet perfectly natural ; on which ac- 
count they strike the mind with wonderful freshness and force. 
In reading Dante, you not merely read ; you see, you hear, you 
feel. Transported for the moment into an ideal world, you look 
through his eyes, listen with his ears, feel with his spirit. Hell 
flashes — heaven smiles upon your terrified or enraptured 
vision. 

Connected with this, we cannot help referring to the mani- 
festation of his creative genius in the use of language. Indeed 
the Italian, when he wrote, scarce had an existence, except as a 
rude and imperfect speech. He was the first great author that 
infused into it beauty and power. Passing through the crucible 



182 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



of his vast and impetuous mind, it came forth, like gold, seven 
times purified. It was subsequently further improved and 
polished by Boccaccio, Petrarch, and others ; but it was Dante 
who first invested his native tongue with force and melody. In 
him thought and speech are one. The latter is as much a crea- 
tion of his mind as the former ; hence the surprising vigor and 
originality of his diction. It has all the precision and elegance 
of sculptured forms, yet'is instinct with life and motion. His style, 
we admit, is often rude in its general outline, and harsh in its oc- 
casional expression,, resembling, in this respect, the statues of Mi-* 
chael Angelo ; but it glows with the fire of genius, and, ever and 
anon, breaks into shapes of ineffable beauty and splendor. Its 
rudeness is that of nature, which often appears harsh and unfin- 
ished in some of its details, but never fails, as a whole, to reveal 
the harmony and perfection of the indwelling Spirit. Dante is a 
painter in words, and quite equal, in strength and majesty, to his 
great admirer, Michael Angelo, who has been styled the Dante 
of painting and architecture. Indeed Dante himself possessed a 
taste, not only for poetry and music, but also for drawing. To 
this we find an interesting allusion in the Vita Nuova : " On the 
day," says he, *' that completed the year after this lady (Bea- 
trice) had been received among the denizens of eternal life, while 
I was sitting alone, and rec illing her form to my remembrance, I 
drew an angel on a certain tablet," &c. Thus also, Michael An- 
gelo was not only a great painter and architect, but a distinguished 
poet. Some of his strains are almost equal to those of Tasso. His 
favorite author was Dante, and in many of his works, both of the 
chisel and of the pencil, he has introduced figures, suggested by. 
the Com media, or taken directly from its pages. Among these 
were the statues of Leah and Rachel, from the twentj^seventh 
canto of the Purgatorio, on the monument of Pope Julius. His 
own copy of the Commedia, we are informed, had the margins em- 



DANTE. 183 

bellished with sketches from the subjects m the text — a precious 
treasure, but unfortunately lost at sea. Dante's power over lan- 
guage was as despotic as that of Angelo over lines and colors ; 
and hence both created eras in the history of literature and of art. 
Appropriately and beautifully, therefore, Byron, in his " Prophecy 
of Dante,'' puts into his lips the following words. Speaking of 
Italy, he says : 

" Thou'rt mine — my bones shall be within thy breast, 

My soul within thy language, which once set 
With our old Roman sway in the wide west 

But I will make another tongue arise 
As lofty and more sweet, in which exprest 

The hero's ardor or the lover's sighs, 
Shall find alike such sounds for every theme, 

That every word as brilliant as thy skies 
Shall realize a poet's proudest dream 

And make thee Europe's nightingale of song." 

It is owing to the same vividness and freshness of mind* that 
almost every thing in the Divina Commedia assumes a definite 
and graceful form. In this respect, how striking and beautiful his 
angels ! Unlike all other angels that were ever imagined or de- 
picted, they are yet not only most natural and becoming, but 
instinct with grandeur and loveliness. The variety of their forms, 
as well as the energy and gracefulness of their motions, cannot 
escape the dullest observer. The angels of Titian and of Guide, 
and even of RafFaele and Milton, are only glorified human beings ; 
but Dante's angels are altogether supernatural, not only in their 
temper, but in their forms, and aspects. They come from afar, as 
it were from the misty depths of ether, glide across the " blue 
pi'ofound," guiding the barge that is to convey tlie chosen spirits 
to Paradise, poise themselves on wide-spread wings, of every form 
and hue, sometimes using them as sails, and anon rising with them 
into the highest heaven. Majestic and powerful, they disdain all 



184 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



earthly aid, and pass through space, as their natural element. 
Colorless at first, as if they were a mere presence and mystery, 
then revealing themselves, at a distance, with a dull red, like the 
planet Mars struggling through the mist of evening, but growing 
brighter and brighter with the rapidity of lightning. Some are 
clad in vesture of green, vivid as " the new-born leaves," floating 
on the ambient air, and fanned by ethereal wings — others again 
are all a-glow with unearthly lustre, their bright armor flashing 
like the sun, and producing a sudden dizziness in the eyes of the 
beholder ; others have faces like the morning-star, " casting forth 
quivering beams ;" while others are clothed in ash or coal -colored 
garments, dusky as the night, with swords in their hands too 
sparkling for mortal eye. One is announced by a tempest, and 
has the face of a person "occupied by other thoughts." He 
touches the portals of the sky with his wand, and they fly open, 
and then, without uttering a word to his companions, he returns 
the way he came. The agitation of another's wings makes the 
shores tremble, and resembles a crashing whirlwind which sweeps 
through the mountains and levels the forests ; while the presence 
of another afi'ects the senses like the fragrance of a soft summer 
morning. What a picture, for example, is the following ! How 
simple in its general outline, but how striking and graceful ! 

" That being came, all beautiful to meet us, 
Clad in white raiment, and the morning-star 
Appeared to tremble in his countenance ; 
His arms he spread, and then he spread his wings 
And cried, * Come on, the steps are near at hand, 
And here the ascent is easy.' "* 

He sometimes presents a complicated scene, and indeed an en- 
tire history, with one or two brief and rapid strokes, upon which 

* Purgatorio, c. xii. 



DANTE. 185 



we might dwell for hours. The following, for example, has been 
much admired : 

" Ah I when thou hast returned to yonder world, 
And art reposing from thy long, long journey, 
Bemember me, for I am Pia. 
^ * * * 

Siena gave me birth, Maremma death. 

And this he knows who with his ring and jewel 

But newly had espoused me." 

Here, at once, you have the vision before you of Pia, young 
and beautiful, first wedded, then confined in the marshes whither 
her husband had conveyed her, fading away, and lastly dying, 
all unconscious, perhaps, of the fatal wrong which her husband 
inflicted. But who was Pia? None can tell. Pages of conjec- 
ture have been expended upon the question, but without much 
satisfactory result. They say she was the wife of a grandee, 
Nello, Delia Pietra, who, becoming jealous of his young bride, 
removed her to the putrid marshes of the Maremma, w^here she 
soon drooped and died, -without suspicion on her part, or intima- 
tion on his, of the terrible purpose for which she was hurried 
thither ; her gloomy keeper, with a steady eye, watching her life 
go out, " like a dying lamp in a sepulchre,'^ and after her death 
abandoning himself to utter despair. 

It will be seen from this, that Dante's pictures of horror and 
grief are equally striking with those of beauty and gladness. 
Claspings of hands, shiverings that make the air tremble, looks 
averted, tears trickling slowly and reluctantly adown dark and 
dusky cheeks, or congealed upon the eyehds, doleful beings, si- 
lent and sad, others whose enforced words cause the flesh to creep 
and the spirit to quake, and others vanishing with a sigh or a 
stifled groan, in dismal gloom or lurid flames. One indeed is 



186 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



shocked and appalled, but held spell-bound by the mysterious 
fascination. Occasionally, one is even disgusted ; for the pic- 
tures, wonderfully truthful, are so grotesque and horrible, that 
they could originate only in a semi-barbarous age, and in a min^ 
liaif- demoniac and half-divine. 

It is an infinite relief, however, to meet, amid the waste of 
gloom and sorrow, so many pictures of beauty and gladness, all 
the more fascinating from contrast, like flowers in rifted rocks, or 
fountains in the desert. His descriptions, especially of external 
nature, are as fresh and lovely as the dews of early morn, con- 
tending with the sunlight. *' You long," says Leigh Hunt, " to 
bathe your eyes, smarting with the fumes of hell, in his dews. 
You gaze enchanted on his green fields and his celestial blue skies, 
the more so from the pain and sorrow in the midst of which the 
visions are created." Dante's delineations of calm scenes, of in- 
animate nature, of picturesque objects, and pastoral images ; his 
allusions to the nobler and tenderer feehngs of the human heart, 
the love of home, of kindred, and of Heaven ; his pictures of un- 
dying affection and devotion ; above all, his visions of glory, give 
indication of a mind which, while it knew and revealed the hor- 
rible and wicked, knew also and developed the beautiful and good. 
If some then have felt themselves authorized, from the former, to 
say he has the spirit of a demon, are we not authorized also, from 
the latter, to say he has the spirit of an angel ? Moreover, if he 
rose from the first, and rested only in the second, may we not 
hope' that his errors were forgiven, and his nature finally purified 
and blessed? 

But let us look at some of his exquisite pictures, and gather 
from them some solace and cheer, amid the horrors of the Inferno. 
The miser, tormented by the thirst of Tantalus, is made perpetu- 
ally to behold, without tasting, not water merely, but 



DANTE. 187 



" Rivulets tliat from the verdant hills 
Of Casentioe into the Arno flow, 
Freshening its current with the cooler rills." 

In the same way, the livid flames which illuminate the eighth 
circle of his infernal regions are — 

" Lights numberless, as by some fountain side 

The silly swain reposing at the hour 
When beams the day-star with diminished pride. 

When the sunned bee deserts each rifled flower, 
And leaves to humming gnats the populous void — 

Beholds in grassy lawns or leafy bowers 
Or orchard plot, of glow-worms emerald bright." 

What can be finer than his description of the evening hour, 
with its soothing melancholy and dreams of home ? 

" 'Twas now the hour when fond desire renews 

To him who wanders o'er the pathless main, 
Raising unbidden tears, the last adieus 

Of tender friends, whom fancy shapes again ; 
While the late parted pilgrim thrills with thought 

Of his loved home, if o'er the distant plain 
Perchance his ears the village chimes have caught, 

Seeming to mourn the close of dying day." 

The last line, as all will allow, is melody itself, and might have 
suggested to Gray the opening stanza of his elegy. 

But none of these are equal to the portrait of the glorified 
Beatrice, as she appears to the eyes of Dante, in a cloud of flowers. 

" Even as the blessed in the new covenant 
Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave, 
Wearing again the garments of the flesh — 
So upon that celestial chariot 



188 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



A hundred rose ad vocem tanti seniSf 
Ministers and messengers of life eternal, 
They all were saying, * Benedictus qui vents /** 
And scattering flowers above and round about, 
, * Manibus, date lilia plenis P 

I once beheld at the approach of day ^ 

The orient sky all stained with roseate hues, \ 

And the other heaven with light serene adorned. 

And the sun's face uprising overshadowed — 

So that by temperate influence of vapors. 

The eye sustained his aspect for long while ; 

Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers 

Which from tliose liands angelic were thrown up 

And down descended inside and without, 

With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil, 

Appeared a lady under a green mantle 

Vested in colors of the living flame." f 

* " Blessed art thou that com est." This and the other Latin quotations 
are scraps of old choral chants. 

f We subjoin Gary's translation of this fine passage, in some of its lines 
superior to the above, accompanied with a portion of the original, the 
beauty and harmony of which are unequalled. 

I have beheld ere now at break of day. 

The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky 

Opposed one deep and beautiful serene ; 

And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists 

Attempered at his rising, that the eye 

Long while endured the sight : thus in a cloud 

Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose. 

And down and outside of the car, 

Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreathett 

A virgin in my view appeared, beneath 

Green mantle, robed in hue of living flame ; 

And o'er my spirit that in former days 

Within her presence had abode so long, 



DANTE. 189 



Another briefer, and perhaps more exquisite description of 
Beatrice, is given in his vision of the spirits in the planet Mercury. 

"I see full well how in the light divine 
Thou dwell'st ; and -that thine eyes a joy display, 
Which when thou smilest more serenely shine : i 

But who thou art I know not ; neither why, 
O worthy soul, a sphere is given to thee, 
Hid by another's ray from mortal eye. 

These words I spoke unto the joyous light 
That had been first to address me — whereat she 
Arrayed herself in splendor still more bright : 

And as the sun conceals herself from view^ 
In the pure splendor of the neio-born dai/, 
Bursting his mantle of the early dew ; 

E^en so that holy form herself concealed 
Within the lustre of her own pure ray^ 

Dante ascends to a yet higher strain, in the following, where 
Beatrice, the symbol of religion, which is light and love, reveals 
a beauty and glory the most intense and overpowering : 

No shuddering terror crept. Mine eyes no more 
Had knowledge of her." 

" lo vidi gia nel commenciar del giorno 

La parte oriental tutta rosata, 
E I'altro ciel di bel sereno adorno ; 

E la faccia del sol nascere ombrata 
Si che, per temparanza di vapori 

L'occhio lo sostenea lunga fiata : 
Cosi dentra una nuvola di fiori 

Che dalle mane angelicha saliva 
E ricadea in giu dentro e di fuori, 

Sorra Candida vel, cinta d'oliva 
Donna m'apparve sotto verde manto 

Vestita di color di fiamma viva." 



190 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



" Like as the bird, who on her nest all night 
Had rested darkling with her tender brood 
'Mid the loved foliage, longing now for light 

To gaze on their dear looks and bring them food — 
I Sweet task, whose pleasures all its toils repay, ^ 

Anticipates the dawn, and through the wood 

Ascending perches on the topmost spray, 
There all impatience, watching to descry 
The first faint glimmer of approaching day. 

Thus did my lady toward the southern sky, 
Erect and motionless her visage turn ; 
The mute suspense that filled her wishful eye, 

Made me like one who waits a friend's return, 
Lives on this hope, and will no other own. 
Soon did my eye a rising light discern ; 

High up the heavens its kindling splendors shone, 
And Beatrice exclaimed, * See, they appear. 
The Lord's triumphal hosts ! For this alone 

These spheres have rolled and reap their harvests here !' 
Her face seemed all on fire, and in her eye 
Danced joy unspeakable to mortal ear. 

As when full-orbed Di.ana smiles on high, 
While the eternal nymphs her form surround. 
And scattering beauty through the cloudless sky. 

Float on the bosom of the blue profound : 
O'er thousands of bright flowers was seen to blaze 
One sun transcendent,* from whom all around, 

As from our sun the planets drew their rays. 
He through these living lights poured such a tide 
Of glory, as o'erpowered my feeble gaze." 

Thus religion guides the soul to the primal and essential Light, 
the Sun of suns, the eternal fountain of being and blessedness, 
" God manifest in the flesh." 

The goal then to which all the aspirings of the sin-stricken 

* Jesus Christ, the "Sun of righteousness." 



DANTE. 191 



wanderer reached, was God himself; and hence he obtains, at 
last, a mystic vision of the Holy Trinity, wherein he beholds " our 
image painted." The mystery, however, is too profound, and 
** vigor fails the towering fantasy." 

'* But yet the will rolled onward, like a wheel 
In even motion, by the love impelled, 
That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars." 

Much discussion has arisen respecting the origin of the Corn- 
media.^ This, so far as its subjective character is concerned, we 
have already found in the soul of Dante himself. Many things 
may have aided its suggestion and development ; but, like all 
other immortal poenas, the Commedia is a pure creation of genius. 
It sprang from the deep fountains of the poet's heart ; and is 
hence the best history not only of his genius, but of his life. We 
see more of Dante in the Commedia, than in all that has ever been 
written concerning him. It is, indeed, the development of his 
Vita JVuovay or New Life. Through all the gloom of the Inferno, 
as well as the light and glory of the Paradiso, we behold that 
sinful, suffering spirit passing onward to the full perfection of its 
being and happiness. To this, we find affecting allusion in the 
thirtieth canto of the Purgatorio, where Beatrice, now to be re- 
garded not as an earth-born beauty, but as the glorified symbol 
of truth and purity, is represented as saying : 

" In his new life this man was such, that he 
Might in himself have wondrously displayed 
All noble virtues, in supreme degree. 

* The word Commedia has been thought singular in this connection. But 
it is used simply as equivalent to Drama, and was never intended to con- 
vey an idea of the comic or ludicrous, as some have absurdly imagined. It 
is the drama of life ; and is thus full of action and passion. Some of its 
scenes are eminently dramatic, both in their spirit and form. 



192 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Cut all the kindlier strength is in the soil, 
So do ill seed and lack of culture breed 
More noxious growth and ranker wilderness. 
I for some time sustained him with my looks ; 
To him unveiling my young eyes, I led 

His steps with niine along the path of right : ^^ 

• Yet soon as I the threshold gained of this 

My second ag«, and laid life's vesture down, 
He turned from me and gave himself to others. 
When I from carnal had to spirit risen, 
And beauty and virtue in me grew divine, 
I was less dear to him and less esteemed ; 
And into devious paths he turned his steps, 
Pursuing, still false images of goody 
That make no promise perfect to the hope. 
Nor aught availed it, I for him besought 
High inspirations, with the which in dreams, 
And otherwise, I strove to lead him back ; 
^ So little warmed his bosom to my call, 

To such vile depths he fell, that all device 
Had failed for his salvation, save to show 
The children of perdition to his eyes." 

Jn embodying this great fact or idea, Dante chose such forms 
and imagery as were familiar to him ; derived partly from men 
and books, the spirit and opinions of the age, and partly 
from the natural workings of his own mind, fusing its materials 
and bringing them into new and unheard-of shapes. His the- 
ology and metaphysics are hence those of the times in which he 
lived, or which immediately preceded him. Much of his hell, 
something too of his heaven, and, certainly, all of his purgatory, 
are the figments of superstition and monkery ; but, the great in- 
dwelling spirit, the genius of the whole, which gleams through 
these fantastic shapes, or rather informs them with living splen- 
dor, is the unborrowed inspiration of his own mighty intellect. 



DANTE. 19a 



touclied with the finger of the Almighty. On this ground there 
may be something in the idea of Sismondi, who refers to the 
monkish pageants and plays sometimes enacted in the age of 
Dante, to represent the punishments of hell, as having suggested 
the form of the Inferno. He says, that on more than one occa- 
sion such an exhibition, in dramatic form, was made in Florence, 
in the bed of the Arno, with all the varied torments which the 
imagination of the monks had called up ; its rivers of boiling pitch, 
its gulfs of fire, its mountains of ice, and its serpents, all which 
were brought to act upon real persons, (heretics of course,) who, 
by their horrible shrieks, groans, and bowlings, made the illusion 
complete. It has been remarked, however, that it is a matter of 
uncertainty, whether this suggested the Inferno, or the Inferno 
this; for the one is just as probable as the other. However, the 
minds of men were familiar enough with such ideas in the twelfth 
and thirteenth centuries. The monkish preacher of that day 
tasked the imagination for the production of all sorts of horrors, 
to frighten the people into obedience. Religion, enshrining a few 
grand elements, preserved from antiquity, was gross in its char- 
acter, and often brutal, if not demoniac, in its manifestations. 
'* In the age of Dante," says Mariotti, " praying and fighting went 
side by side. The Ark of the Covenant rose in the midst of mar- 
tial encampments. The priesthood of Christ gloried in the name 
of church mihtant. The bishop said mass in his coat of arms, 
and rival fraternities knocked each other down with their cruci- 
fixes. The whole system of faith and worship was made to fit 
an age of outrage and violence. Christianity ruled by terror. 
Religion was then indeed the fear of God. Fear of the devil had 
been a more appropriate expression.'' The most egregious fol- 
lies, and often the most fearful licentiousness and cruelty were 
mingled with intense bigotry, and self-sacrificing penance. Fire 
and sword were the weapons of the church. The roastmg of 
9 



194 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



heretics, under the names of Paterini and Cathari, the Puritans 
and Dissenters of their age, had become, in the cities of northern 
Italy, an almost daily ceremony. 

That the stern genius of Dante was imbued with something 
of this gross and stern asceticism, cannot be doubted. At all 
events, it must be obvious to every one, that he employs its more 
striking forms and expressions, to reveal the daring thoughts of 
his deep and gloomy genius. But all the while we can see his 
better nature strugghng through the fire and smoke, and finally 
breaking away from the whole, and ascending, like a creature of 
heaven, winged with sunbeams, to the fountain of eternal day. 

But the acute Villemain, in his " Cours de Litterature" cer- 
tainly gives a better account of the origin of Dante^s Inferno 
than the one suggested by Sismondi. *' One day,'* says he, *' long 
before the epoch of Dante, in the little city of Arezzo, the Pope, 
Nicholas Second, being present, a cardinal ascended the pulpit 
and preached.'' This cardinal was then fifty years of age ; he was 
small of stature ; his eyes were sparkling and animated by an ar- 
dent and sombre fire, which made sinners tremble ; his hair, still 
black, gave to his countenance, already aged, something more 
inanly and harsh. His words were revered by the people. He 
was deemed a holy man, and all the bishops of Italy trembled 
before his power. This was Gregory Seventh, yet now only the 
Archdeacon Hildebrand. 

"But why go back so far for the inspiration of Dante ? Because 
a man of genius having preached such a thing as the Inferno, it 
must have entered the popular mind, and repeated, amplified, 
exaggerated, gone down to posterity, a vast legend, which another 
man of genius . afterwards transformed into the highest poetry. 
Gregory indeed cared nothing for the poetry, but he wished to 
subdue incorrigible offenders, and fix an indelible stigma upon the 
Germans, whom he hated. Listen to him : 



DANTE. 195 



" A certain German count," said he, " died about ten years 
ago. After his death, a holy man descended in spirit into the 
infernal regions, and there saw the above-mentioned count, placed 
upon the highest step of a ladder. He affirmed that this ladder 
seemed to rise uninjured among the roaring and eddying flames 
of the avenging fire, and to have been placed there to receive all 
the descendants of that race of counts. Beyond, a black chaos, 
a frightful abyss, extended infinitely, and plunged into the infernal 
depths, whence issued this immense ladder. This was the order 
estabhshed then among those who succeeded each other ; the last 
comer took the highest step of the ladder, and he who before oc- 
cupied it, and all the others, descended, each, one step towards 
the abyss. The men of this family coming after him, were suc- 
cessively arranged upon the ladder, and, by an inevitable lavv, 
went, one after another, to the bottom of the abyss. 

" The holy man who witnessed these things, inquired the cause 
of this damnation, and why the Count, his contemporary, reputed 
to be an upright and worthy man, a rare circumstance among 
persons of that class, was thus severely punished. A voice re- 
plied : ' On account of a domain of the Church of Metz, which 
one of his ancestors, of whom he is the tenth heir, had wrested 
from the blessed Stephen ; all these have been devoted to the 
same punishment, and as the same sin of avarice had united them 
in the same crime, so the same punishment has united them in 
the fires of hell.' '' 

Here we have the idea of the ten degrees, or circles of the In- 
ferno, which, issuing from that terrible mouth which made kings 
tremble, might have floated about in the terrified versions of the 
multitude, until arrested by the glowing mind of Dante, was 
finally set in the framework of his immortal verse. 

But speculations of this sort are more curious than profitable, 
except as illustrating the spirit of the age, and the methods of 



196 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



genius ; for, while Dante derived his materials from all sources, 
he alone possessed the power to construct them into that temple 
of adamant, which is yet invested with all the gloom and glory 
of the middle ages, or, to quote his own words : 

*' The sacred song which heaven and earth 
Have lent a hand to frame — which 
Many a year bath kept me lean with thought." 

In a word, the Divina Commedia is one of those old Gothic 
edifices of the dark ages, with its many-chambered cells, and even 
dungeons, its dim aisles and massive towers, fretted ornaments, 
old tombs and blazing altars, illumined by the rays of the setting 
sun, and echoing the soft ^tones of the vesper bells ; a thing at 
once of dread and beauty, of stern bigotry and celestial devotion. 
In that old temple, " that great supernatural world cathedral," a 
modern, and a Protestant even, may linger in hallowed worship. 
There, his spirit subdued by solemn thought, may rise to the 
home of glory in the skies, where the good of all creeds finally 
mingle ; and if, by the blessing of God he should himself at last 
reach " the highest heaven of uncreated light," he will not be 
much surprised, if, notwithstanding all his errors and imperfec- 
tions, he should meet there the glorified Dante. Would to heaven 
that in these days of scepticism and pride, when we scarce be- 
lieve in heaven, to say nothing of hell, we had one half of the 
clear vision, steady faith, and all- conquering love of the immortal 
Florentine. With our better views and softer piety, we might 
then set our foot upon the world, mount into the clear empyrean, 
and bathe our spirits in the very fount of eternal day ! 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Petrarch and Boccaccio— Their Character and 'Genius — Influence upon liter- 
ature. 

When Dante was banished from Florence, Petracco deirAncisci, 
a noble Florentine, and notary of the republic, was involved in 
the same calamity. He was the father of the celebrated Pe- 
trarch, who was born in Arezzo on the 19th of July, 1304, on the 
very night when Dante, Petracco, and other Ghibellines, made 
their last ineffectual attempt on Florence. A striking incident 
in the life of Petrarch, connected with that event, is thus versified 
by Rogers. Referring to the Arno, which glides in many beauti- 
ful windings through the Yal de Pisa — 

" Reflecting convents, castles, villages, 
And those great rivals, in an elder day, 
Florence and Pisa :" — 



he adds, 



" Once indeed 'twas thine, 
When many a winter flood, thy tributary, 
Was through its rocky glen rushing, resounding, 
And thou wert in thy might, to save, restore 
A charge most precious. To the nearest ford 
Hastening, a horseman from Arezzo came, 
Careless, impatient of delay, a babe 
Blung in a basket to the knotty staff 
That lay athwart his saddle-bow. He spurs. 
He enters ; and his horse alarmed, perplexed, 



198 3ENIUS OF ITALY. 



Halts in the midst. Great is the stir, the strife ; 

And lo ! an atom on that dangerous sea, 

The babe is floating ! Fast and far he flies ; 

Now tempest-rocked, now whirling round and round, 

But not to perish. By thy willing waves 

Borne to the shore among the bulrushes, 

The ark has rested ; and unhurt, secure, 

As on his mother's breast, he sleeps within, 

All peace ! or never had the nations heard 

That voice so sweet which still enchants, inspires ; 

That voice which sung of love, of liberty. 

Petrarch lay there !""^ 

Notwithstanding this early misfortune, the life of Petrarch was 
only too prosperous and happy — no, not happy, except in the 
narrow, worldly sense of the term ; for alas ! his bright career of 
honor and pleasure grew dim before his eyes, and left him unsat- 
isfied and melancholy. His entire life was a perfect contrast to 
that of Dante. Honored and caressed by popes and princes, the 
favorite of the muses and the idol of all, there was no distinction 
which he could not reach, no pleasure which he could not taste. 
Learned, generous and polished, a man of genius and station, 
with no great faults, he had no great virtues. He inveighed 
against the vices of his patrons, but ever retained their patronage. 
The friend of Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes, and the advocate 
of freedom, he consorted, his life long, with the most consum- 
mate despots, and derived his highest honors "from hands that 
reeked with blood. 

Petrarch was designed for the law, and studied at Bologna and 
other places. He made great progress in learning ; but felt so 
strong an attraction to poetry, that he abandoned the legal pro- 
fession, sorely to the disappointment of his father, and gave himself 
up to the muses. 

* Italy, a poem. 



PETRARCH. 199 



His residence at Avignon, at that time the site of the Papal 
See, and on that very account one of the most licentious cities in 
Europe* — his attachment tothe beautiful Laura, whom he has im- 
mortalized in his sonnets — his half devout, half carnal and Pla- 
tonic love, which burned long after Laura was in the grave, and 
colored his whole subsequent life — his soUtary musings by the 
fountain of Vaucluse, and in his chosen retreat at Arqua, are well 
known to all. 

As a scholar and a courtier, a poet and a man of genius, his 
fame, in his own day, was unbounded. He was crowned with 
laurel in the Capitol, and received the homage and applause not 
only of Rome, but of Florence and Venice. 

Chaucer, who was well acquainted with Italian literature, and 
drew something of his own inspiration from this source, having 
in his youth visited Italy and conversed with Petrarch, speaks of 
him as "the laureat poet," 

" Whose rethorike sweet 
Enlumined all Itaille of poetrie." 

But Petrarch prided himself chiefly on his vast learning, his 
majestic Latin style, his efforts for the diffusion of classical learning, 
and, above all, his great epic poem of " Africa," which he hoped 
to leave behind him as the richest monument of his genius. But 
most of these, especially his huge epic, posterity has forgotten. 

* In his letters from Avignon, Petrarch has given us a dark picture of the 
vices of the Pontifical court. " I am at present," says he, in a letter to a 
friend, " in the western Babylon, than which the sun never beheld anything 
more hideous ; and beside the fierce Rhone, where th^successors of the poor 
fishermen live as kings. Here the credulous crowd.of Christians are caught 
in the name of Jesus, but by the arts of Belial ; and being stripped of 
their scales are fried to fill the belly of gluttons." 

Epistolce Familiares. 



200 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



The only things cf his valued now are his efforts in the diffusion 
of Latin literature, and his lyric poems, which he regarded only as 
his solace and amusement. 

Dante created the language of Italian poetry ; Petrarch brought 
it to perfection. If the one was the Angelo of literature, the other 
was its Raffaele. In the extreme beauty and perfection of his 
diction he has never been surpassed. No word of his has grown 
obsolete, no figure has lost its freshness and elegance. Indulging 
occasionally in refined conceits, he is never weak or redundant. 
His style is always clear, firm and beautiful. Of deep and stormy 
passion, of strong and startling phraseology he has nothing ; but 
his sweetness, tenderness and elegance are inimitable. His poetry 
has all the clearness as well as the splendor of the diamond. It 
always reminds us of the hardest and most delicate enamel. It 
is pervaded moreover by a serene light, a soft and pensive 
beauty. In fact, it is the very perfection of what may be termed 
ideal, or reflective passion, embodied in exquisite and melodious 
verse. Here Laura looks out upon us with her calm, glorified 
eyes."^ 

* Foscolo quotes the following memorandum made by Petrarch two 
months after the decease of Laura, in his private manuscript copy of Vir- 
gil, now preserved in the Ambrosian library at Milan, which presents the 
reality and depth of his afiection for Laura, in the most favorable and 
striking light. 

" It was in the early days of my youth, on the sixth of April, in the 
morning, and in the year 1327, that Laura, distinguished by her own vir- 
tues, and celebrated in my verses, first blessed my eye^ in the Church of 
Santa Clara at Avignon ; and it was in the same city, on the sixth of the 
very same month of April, at the very same hour in the morning, in the 
year 1348, that this bright luminary was withdrawn from our sight, when I 
was at Verona, alas ! ignorant of my calamity. The remains of her 
chaste and beautiful body were deposited in the Church of the Cordeliers 
on the evening of the same day. To preserve this aMcting remembrance, 



PETRARCH. 201 



The stormy age of Dante had begun to soften. Wealth and 
mxury begot effeminacy and weakness. Mercenaries were hired 
to perform the fighting of the Itahans, while the citizens gave 
themselves up to the pursuits of commerce and literature. It 
was about this time that foreign barbarians overran the country ; 
and Petrarch in his old age saw Italy drenched in blood. He 
had travelled much, and seen many beautiful scenes, in other 
lands ; but his heart turned to Italy with unceasing affection. 
It was thence an infinite grief to his generous heart, to see his 
native country suffering from such a cause. Some of the finest 
passages in his poems have reference to this circumstance, and 
rise to a high pitch of indignant eloquence. His appeals upon 
this subject were not without effect. Native companies of patri- 
otic citizens were formed ; and the fierce marauders were driven 
from Italy. 

But this unhappy country has never been long free from in- 
tenstine division, or foreign invasion, and not long after this a long 
and bloody war ensued, from the descent upon Italy of the Em- 
peror Charles the Fourth. So that, between popes and emperors, 
Italy has scarcely enjoyed a moment's repose, from the fall of 
the ancient repubhcs to the present time. 

Petrarch was tall and well-formed, with noble and handsome fea- 
tures, large lustrous eyes, serene mouth, and lofty brow. His man- 
ners were courteous and fascinating, and his character somewhat 
generous, but by no means elevated and self-sacrificing. He was an 

I have taken a bitter pleasure in recording it, particularly in this book, 
which is most frequently before my eyes, in order that nothing in this world 
may have any farther attraction for me ; that this great attachment to fife 
being dissolved, I may, by frequent reflection, and a proper estimation of 
our transitory existence, be admonished that it is high time for me to 
think of quitting this earthly Babylon, which I trust it will not be difficult 
for me, with a strong and manly courage, to accomplish.'* 
9* 



202 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



agreeable man of the world, with an ardent desire for the welfare 
of his friends and his native land, but without that loftiness of na- 
ture, and energy of purpose, which are absolutely essential to high 
patriotism and virtue. He grew weary of his own honors and 
success, and discovered, too late, that he had failed to reach the 
true end of life. He died in Arqua, his cherished retreat among 
the Euganean hills, a few miles from Padua, July 18th, 13Y4. 
He was found by his attendants dead in his chair, his head lean- 
ing on his desk, with a book beside him, probably struck by apo- 
plexy while engaged in reading. He was buried with great pomp, 
being followed to his grave by the Prince of Padua, the eccclesi- 
astical dignitaries and the students of the University. His tomb 
is the resort of many literary pilgrims. 

" There is a tomb in Arqua ; reared in air, 
Pillared in their sarcophagus, repose 
The bones of Laura's lover ; here repair 
Many familiar with his well-sung woes, 
The pilgrims of his genius. He arose 
To raise a language, and his land reclaim 
From the dull yoke of her barbaric foes; 
Watering the tree that bears his lady's name 
With his melodious tears, he gave himself to fame." — Byron. 

The idolatry, with which Petrarch has ever been regarded by 
his countrymen, has begun to subside. But they still speak of 
him as " the tender, the elegant, the divine." Far inferior to 
Dante, Ariosto and Tasso, in originality and vigor, he approaches 
them, perhaps equals them occasionally, in tenderness and beauty. 
His descriptions, mingled with sentiment and devotion, resem- 
bhng in this respect the songs of Robert Burns, are singularly 
touching. They remind us of the light of setting suns, or the 
pensive beautv of the moon and stars. The following is one of 



PETRARCH. 203 



his finest canzones, and will give as fair an idea, as a translation 
can, of his peculiar style :* 



CANZONE. 

In the still even, when with rapid flight 

Low in the western sky the sun descends 

To give expectant nations life and lights 

The aged pilgrim, in some clime unknown 

Slow joujrneying, right onward fearful bends 

With weary haste, a stranger and alone ; 

Yet when his labor ends, 

He solitary sleeps, 

And in short slumber steeps 

Each sense of sorrow hanging on the day, 

And all the toil of the long past way ; 

But 0, each pang that wakes with morn's first ray, 

More piercing wounds my breast. 

When heaven's eternal light sinks crimson in the west I 

His burning wheels when downward Phcebus bends 
And leaves the world to night, its lengthened shade 
Each towering mountain o'er the vale extends ; • 
The thrifty peasant shoulders light his spade, 
With sylvan carol gay and uncouth note. 
Bidding his cares upon the wild winds float. 
Content in peace to share 
His poor and humble fare, 
As in that golden age 
We honor still, yet leave its simple ways. 

* When Petrarch found that the poems of his youth were the principal 
source of his fame, h^ bestowed upon them an elaborate revision. It is im- 
possible to say how frequently they passed through the alembic of his criti 
cism. He brought the melody and rhythm to the highest perfection. 



204 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Whoe'er so list, let joj his hours engage ; 

No gladness e'er has cheered my gloomy days, 

Nor moment of repose, 

However rolled the spheres, whatever planet rose. 

When as the shepherd -marks the sloping ray 

Of the great orb that sinks ,in ocean's bed, 

While on the east soft steals the evening gray, 

He rises and resumes the accustomed crook, 

Quitting the beechen grove, the field, the brook, 

And gently homeward drives the flock he fed • 

Then far from human tread, 

In lonely hut or cave. 

O'er which the green boughs wave, 

In sleep without a thought he lays his head ; 

Ah ! cruel love ! at this dark, silent hour, 

Thou wak'st to trace, and with redoubled power. 

The voice, the step, the air 

Of her, who scorns thy chain, and flies the fatal snare. 

And in some sheltered bay at evening's close. 

The mariners their rude coats round them fold. 

Stretched on the rugged plank in deep repose ; 

But I, though Phoebus sink into the main. 

And leave Granada wrapt in night, with Spain, 

Morocco, and the Pillars famed of old — 

Though all of human kind, 

And every creature blest, 

All hush their ills to rest, 

No end to my unceasing sorrows find : 

And still the sad account swells day by day; 

For since these thoughts on my born spirit prey, 

I see the tenth year roll ; 

Nor hope of freedom springs in my desponding soul. 

Thus as I vent my bursting bosom's pain, 
Lo I from the yoke I see the oxen feed, 



BOCCACCIO. , 205 



Slow moving homeward o'er the furrowed plain: 

Why to my sorrow is no pause decreed? 

Why from my yoke no respite must I know ? 

Why gush these tears, and never cease to flow t 

Ah me ! what sought my eyes, 

When fixed in fond surprise, 

On her angelic face 

I gazed, and on my heart each charm impressed ? 

From which i;ior force nor art the sacred trace 

Shall e'er remove, till I the victim rest 

Of Death, whose mortal blow 

Shall my pure spirit free, and this worn frame lay low. 

The Val de Pisa, and the name of Petrarch, recall that of Gio- 
vanni Boccaccio, born at Paris in 1313, of a French lady and a 
Florentine merchant. He performed for Italian prose, what Pe- 
trarch did for poetry ; having given fullness, elegance and beauty 
to that species of composition. He is distinguished also as the 
restorer of Greek learning in his native land, having been the 
first Italian, in all probability, who thoroughly mastered the 
Greek language, and having spent much time and money in pro- 
curing the classic writers of Greece, and diffusing their influence 
through Italy. 

He first met Petrarch at Virgil's tomb, near the Grotto of 
Pausilipo, on the margin of the bay of Naples, and from that time 
continued his warm friend until death. 

Of an uncommonly pleasing exterior, fascinating manners and 
gay disposition, he was easily drawn within the vortex of pleasure. 
During a large portion of his early life, both at Florence and Na- 
ples, especially in the gorgeous and dissolute court of Queen 
Joan, he yielded to all the seductions of the age. 

Gifted with the spirit of poetry, and longing for distinction, he, 
consecrated himself, on VirgiFs urn, to some higher and better 
destiny than that of the gay flatterers around him. It was then. 



206 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



as he himself informs us, *' that he felt himself suddenly seized bya 
sacred inspiration, and entered into a daring vow with himself 
that his name should not perish with him.'' 

But his poetry is far inferior to hisi prose ; and it is by thd lat- 
ter, exhibited in its perfection, in the Decameron, or Tales of a 
Hundred Days, written to please his gay female friends at the court 
of Queen Joan, that he has acquired distinction. *' This collection 
of tales," says Ginguene, *' which he held in no estimation, were 
composed, as he says himself, only for the solace of the ladies, 
who in those days led a very dismal life. Like Petrarch, he 
looked for immortality from learned works, composed in a learned 
language, but like him received It from the mere sports of his 
imagination, in which he brought to maturity a language then in 
its infancy, and till then abandoned to the people for the common 
concerns of life, to which he was the first to give, in prose, as 
Dante and Petrarch had done in verse, the elegance, the harmony, 
the measured form, the happy choice of words which make a hte- 
rary and polished language.''* The worst feature in the Decame- 
ron is its extreme levity and licentiousness ; in this respect, how- 
ever, too faithfully mirroring the manners of the times. In these 
tales " we find prie'sts given up to hypocrisy and libertinism ; 
monks abandoned to luxury, gluttony and sensuality ;- husbands 
at once duped and credulous ; wives sly and intriguing ; the 
young of both sexes thinking of nothing but pleasure ; the old of 
nothing but money ; nobles ever oppressive and cruel ; knights 
ever frank and courteous ; ladies, some amorous and frail, others 
generous and high-minded — often victims of their frailty, and 
tyrannized over by jealous husbands ; corsairs, malandrins, her- 
mits, dealers in false miracles and legerdemain ; persons, in short, 
,of every station, every country, every age, all of them with their 

* Ginguene, Histoire Litteraire. vol. iii, p. TO. 



BOCCACCIO. 207 



peculiar passions, habits and languages.'' The book has been 
only too popular among the Italians. Indeed, their fiery nature, 
southern chme, bachelor priesthood, half pagan faith, frequent 
festivals, and easy manners, have ever exposed them to tempta- 
tion, and rendered such books the vivid exponents of their inmost 
hearts. 

But a great change took place in Boccaccio. His book had 
made a tremendous fluttering in the convents. The monks were 
indignant, and some of them went so far as to identify Boccaccio 
with Antichrist. At length a Carthusian monk from Siena, 
actuated, doubtless, by the best feelings, set out for Florence to 
attempt his conversion. He demanded a private interview with 
^Boccaccio ; and after much earnest appeal, he informed him how, a 
fcT^ days ago, " the blessed Pietro Petroni, a brother monk, had, on 
his death-bed, under a seal of secrecy revealed to him the sen- 
tence which awaited Giovanni Boccaccio if he continued incorrigi- 
ble ; how the holy man in his last agony had read that doom in 
the Saviour's face, upon whose august forehead all was written, 
past, present, and to come." The monk added that he was 
charged with similar messages to all the libertines of the age, and 
that the last was intended for Petrarch. As an evidence of the 
truth of what he said, he mentioned some facts in the life of Boc- 
caccio, as discovered by the dying monk, which the former sup- 
posed were known only to himself. 

As in the heart of that carnal age lurked a profound supersti- 
tion, so in the heart of Boccaccio, with all his scepticism and folly, 
lay a germ of conviction. He was completely thrown off his 
guard, by the profound sincerity of his ghostly adviser, and gave 
way to a paroxysm of alarm. He resolved at once to abandon 
the world, and repair to a convent. He burnt such of his licen- 
tious writings as he could lay his hands on, and wrote a farewell 
to Petrarch. Subsequently he became somewhat calmed and 



208 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



relieved by the admonitions of his friend Petrarch, whom he did 
not forsake. But he persisted in his purpose to assume the garb 
of the Church, and lead a better life. This, it is said, he was ena- 
bled to accomplish during the rest of his life. 

He was much affected by the tidings of Petrarch's death, 
Avhich he regarded as a warning that his own hour was at hand. 
Withdrawing from Florence, where he had been expounding the 
Divina Commedia, which he held in the highest admiration, he 
died at his home in Certaldo, December, 1375, in the sixty-third 
year of his age. 

Boccaccio was warm-hearted and patriotic ; a man of the finest 
genius, and, in his later years, of exemplary virtue. His style is 
full, and indeed somewhat redundant, but abounds in vivacity, wit 
and humor. He performed an important service for literature in 
the restoration of the Greek classics, and in the diffusion of a 
higher taste and a more generous criticism among his countrymen. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Lorenzo de Medici — Pulci — Curious Scientific Anticipations — Da Yinci as a 
Philosopher — Politian — Machiavelli and the Politics of the Age — Leo 
Tenth and Religion — The Reformation — Decline of Italian Literature 
in the seventeenth century — Filicaja — Science — Galileo — Kepler — Dis- 
coveries of Galileo — His Spirit — Science devout — Persecutions of Scien- 
tific Italians — Galileo's Condemnation by the Inquisition — Death — Tri- 
umph of his opinions — Interview between Galileo and Milton — Science 
in Italy — Poetry — Alfieri, Mccolini and others — The Abbe Lambru- 
schini — Mazzini. 

The rage for classical literature, and other circumstances com- 
bining, after the death of Petrarch and Boccaccio, led to the neg- 
lect of native Italian literature ; and no poet, or even prose 
writer, of any great distinction, appears till the time of Lorenzo 
de Medici, styled " the magnificent." The son of Piero, and 
grandson of Cosmo, the founder of the brilliant political fortunes 
of that illustrious family, he was born January 1st, 1448, and 
died in 1492, greatly beloved and honored. Just and magnani- 
mous, though ambitious and pleasure-loving, he carried the 
glory of his family to the highest pitch. Himself a man of 
genius, he gathered other men of genius around him, promoted 
literature and the arts, and rendered Florence the very home 
of refinement and splendor. He was an enthusiastic student of 
Plato, and seems to have caught something of the grandeur and 
serenity of that noblest of all pagan philosophers. *' In a villa 
overhanging the towers of Florence, on the steep slope of that 



210 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



lofty hill crowned by the mother city, the ancient Fiesol6, in 
gardens which Tully might have envied, with Ficino, Landino and 
Politian at his side, he delighted his hours of leisure with the 
beautiful visions of Platonic philosophy, for which the summer 
stillness of an Italian sky appears the most congenial accompani- 
ment."* 

Lorenzo possessed decided poetical genius, and in his youth 
wrote sonnets, dramas, and carnival songs, some of which exhibit 
considerable merit. His Orazione, in praise of the Creator, is 
grand and harmonious. We quote two or three of the best 
stanzas : 

" All nature hear the sacred song ! 

Attend, Earth, the solemn strain ! 
Ye whirlwinds wild that sweep along, 

Ye darkening storms of beating rain. 
Umbrageous glooms, and forests drear 
And solitary deserts hear ! 
Be still ye winds, whilst to the Maker's praise 
The creature of his power aspires his voice to raise, 

O, may the solemn breathing sound 

Like incense rise before the throne, 
"When he whose glory knows no bound, 

Great Cause of all things, dwells alone I 
'Tis he I sing, whose powerful hand 
Balanced the skies, outspread the land, 
Who spoke — from Ocean's stores sweet waters came 
And burst resplendent forth the heaven-aspiring flame. 
* * * * 

Eternal Spirit, whose command 

Light, life, and being gave to all, 
O, hear the creature of thy hand, 

Man, constant on thy goodness call 1 

* Hallam. 



PULCI. 211 

By fire, by water, air and earth, 

That soul to thee that owes its birth — 

By these he supplicates thy blest repose : 

Absent from thee, no rest his wandering spirit knows." 

The Pericles of Florence, as Lorenzo has been styled, resembled 
his Grecian prototype in more respects than one. Like him he 
was somewhat epicurean in his tastes, and fond of gay life. But 
the pleasures of the banquet were relieved by coruscations of 
wit and humor. Poems were recited and sung, and a new im- 
pulse thence given to the cultivation of lyrical poetry. Of the 
guests who frequented the Gem, (Gioiello,) as the ducal villa on 
the heights of Fiesole was termed, the most distinguished were 
Pulci and Politiano. The former w^as preceptor of the ducal 
children, an irascible, merry-hearted fellow, not over scrupulous 
in his jests, and too much devoted to pleasure. He is the author 
of the Morgante Maggiore, a burlesque epic, celebrating the tra- 
ditionary defeat of Charlemagne and his ^peers in the valley of 
Eoncesvalles, said to have been written at the request of Lorenzo's 
mother, and recited at his table. Among other things, it contains 
a curious passage, anticipating the discoveries of Galileo and 
Copernicus in relation to the solar system. One of Pulci's devils, 
alluding to the superstitions relative to the Pillars of Hercules,* 
thus addresses his companions : 

" Know that this theory is false. 
The daring mariner shall urge far o'er 
The western wave a smooth and level plain, 
Albeit the earth is fashioned like a wheel. 
Man was in ancient ^lays of grosser mould. 
And Hercules might blush to learn how far 
Beyond the limits he had vainly set. 
The dullest sea-boat soon shall wing her way. 
Men shall descry another hemisphere, 



212 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Since to one common centre all things tend; 

So earth by curious mystery divine, 

Well balanced, hangs amid the starry spheres. 

At our antipodes are cities, states, 

And thronged empires ne'er divined of yore ; 

But see the sun speeds on his western path, 

To glad the nations with expected light." 

Whence did Pulci derive this ? Was it a random guess, or a 
happy inspiration? Or were there scholars, before Copernicus 
and Galileo, who had discovered, dimly and imperfectly perhaps, 
the true theory of the planetary system ? We have some reason 
to believe that the latter supposition is the true one. Da Vinci, 
the celebrated painter, and founder of the Florentine school, who 
was nearly contemporary with Pulci, is said to have made this 
grand discovery. He was as much celebrated for his knowledge 
of mathematics and natural philosophy, as for his artistic genius. 
His inedited works, an account of which was given by Yenturi, 
an Italian resident in Paris, A. D. 1797, contain intimations, 
somewhat indistinct and imperfect, of all the great results to 
which Galileo, Kepler and Copernicus were long afterwards con- 
ducted by their researches. He was a man of vast and varied 
attainments, of a strong, keen, comprehensive intellect, such as 
Galileo, Newton and Laplace only could boast. 

Politian, another of the Duke Lorenzo's favorites, and also pre- 
ceptor of his children, was a learned and accomplished scholar, 
a commentator on the Pandects of Justinian, and the translator 
of the Iliad into Latin hexameters. In his youth he wrote some 
poems, which give indications of genius, and, amongst others, 
Orfeo, the first regular drama of* the Italian stage. These are 
immature and youthful productions. He had lyric power, and 
some of his minor pieces are quite agreeable. The following has 
the charm of simplicity : 



POLITIAN. 213 



THE MOUNTAIN MAID. 

** Maids of those hills so fair and ga*^, 
Say whence you come and whither stray." 

" From yonder heights our lowly shed 
Those clumps that rise so green disclose 

There by our simple parents bred 
"We share their blessings and repose ; 
Now evening from the flowery close 

Recalls where late our flocks we fed." 

" Ah, tell me in what region grew 

Such fruits transcending all compare ? 
Methinks I love's own offspring view, 

Such graces deck your shape and air ; 

Nor gold nor diamonds glitter there, 
Mean your attire, but angels you. 

Yet well such beauties might repine 

'Mid desert hills and vales to bloom ; 
What scenes, what pride and splendor shine, 
Would not your brighter charms become ? 
But say — with this your Alpine home, 
Can ye content such bliss resign?" 

Far happier we our fleecy care 
Trip lightly after to the mead. 

Than, peat in city walls, your fair 
Foot the gay dance in silks arrayed : 
Nor wish have we, save who should braid 

With gayest wreaths her flowing hair." 

Tlie close of Lorenzo's career brings us to the commencement 
of the sixteenth century, '' the golden age of Italian poetry." It 
is true that no one of its productions, as Professor Longfellow sug- 
gests, can bear a moment's comparison with 



214 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



" The Poem sacred, 
To which both heaven and earth have set their hand," 

but this century produced more poets of a high order of genius 
than any other. " Then in the halls of Este, Ariosto sang, in co- 
pious and flowing numbers, the beauty of Angelica and Orlando's 
madness; then Berni told his tale of love to the illustrious 
Gabriella Gonzaga, and Yittoria Colonna, the glorious Marchesa 
di Pescara, wrapped in her sable gown, and lamenting * the naked 
spirit and litile earth' of him who was her husband ; then Gua- 
rini found in princes' courts how cold may be the best enamel of 
nobility ; then Tasso's songs resounded in the palaces of Ferrara, 
and his groans in its dungeons ; then Michael Angelo crowded 
a long life, embracing three generations of men, with noble works 
in sculpture, in painting and in song, so that Ariosto fitly called 
him, 

"Michel, piu ch' Angelo divino;" 

and then too Machiavelli, whose soul was fretted with the cares 
of state and by the burdens of embassies, and who was forced to 
' eat his heart through comfortless despairs' of poverty and neg- 
lect, enriched his native Tuscan with some of its most nervous 
prose, and diverted himself with the Muses of Poetry and the 
Drama."* 

The history of Florence by Machiavelli is one of the most can- 
did books that ever was written. Undertaken at the request of a 
churchman and dedicated to him as Pope, it does not spare the 
Papal usurpations and follies. He shows, book first, that Theo- 
dosius, king of the Goths, having removed his court to Eavenna, 
the Bishop of Rome endeavored to strengthen his temporal power 
by alliances with foreigners ; that this led to jealousy and ani- 

* " The Poets and Poetry of Europe, by Professor Longfellow," p. 610. 



MACHIAVELLI. 215 



mosity between the Popes and the Emperors, and gave rise to 
most of the divisions which agitated Jtaly for centuries. " So 
that," says he, '*all the wars which foreigners afterwards made 
upon Italy, were chiefly owing to the Popes, and most of the 
several inundations of barbarians that poured themselves into it, 
were in a great measure occasioned by their incitement and insti- 
gation ; which practices being continued even to this time, have 
so long kept, and still keep Italy weak and divided." 

From the character of his work, entitled " The Prince," Ma- 
chiavelli has been regarded as the symbol of political chicanery ; 
but the fact is, he was neither better nor worse than his age. 
Perhaps it might be shown that he was even a little better than 
his age ; for personally he was virtuous and patriotic.^ But all 
those maxims in his book which shock the present age, were uni- 
versally received in his day. Taking things as they were, he 
shows conclusively enough that, in all cases, honesty is not the 
best policy, and that a prince must sometimes establish his au- 
thority by deciBption and bloodshed ! While detesting the 
character of Pope Alexander Sixth, whose whole life was a lie, he 
expresses high admiration of his consummate policy. Caesar Bor- 
gia, the illegitimate son of Alexander, is his model of an able and 
energetic prince. Machiavelli seems to think that this usurper 
took the only means within his power to consolidate his govern- 
ment. With what coldness, nay rather relish, he relates the 
schemes of Borgia for entrapping and destroying the counts and 
princes who had been leagued against him, but with whom he 
had just formed a treaty of amity and peace ! That Machiavelli 
was wrong, cannot admit of doubt ; yet how plausible the state- 
ment, which he makes with such infinite nonchalance, that in a 
condition of society where all are bad, a good man, a simple 

* His " Discourses on Livy" are filled with noble and patriotic sentimentf 



216 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



hearted, confiding prince, must be destroyed. For the sake of 
self-preservation, therefore — for the sake even of his people's wel- 
fare — a wise prince must be prepared sometimes to prevaricate, to 
break his word, to violate solemn treaties, and even to commit 
•murder ! Machiavelli, unfortunately, had no faith in man, and 
very little in God. Everywhere he saw politics regarded as a 
system of expedients, to gratify selfishness and the love of power. 
Popes, princes and cardinals contended in the race of ambition ; 
and frequently the most energetic, prudent, consummate villain 
mcceeded the best. Virtue, according to Machiavelli, ought to 
be preferred to vice ; and he would have all princes govern their 
people with magnanimity and justice ; but he shows that virtue 
must sometinaes take the weapons of vice, to defend itself; in 
fact, he adopts the maxim that the end sanctifies the means ; 
upon the whole, virtue is better than vice, but vice itself 
sometimes becomes virtue, when exerted in a good cause; a 
maxim, we fear, not yet exploded either by governments or by 
individuals. Machiavelli, however, has brought out and ap- 
pHed the maxim with such perfect candor, that the world are 
shocked with its enormity. Evidently, too, he greatly admires 
Alexander Sixth and Caesar Borgia, although the one was on the 
point of being deposed for his cruelties, when he died, and the 
other was stripped of his possessions and came to a miserable end. 

No apology can or ought to be ofifered for Machiavelli's false 
political creed ; and yet the whole world have still to learn the 
true secret of virtue, which is *' to overcome evil," not with evil, 
but '' with good:' 

Bating this, however, Machiavelli was a great statesman and a 
profound thinker. He had meddled with all knowledgie, and 
studied the entire history of man. His judgment was quick and 
penetrating, his information vast and various, and his style a per- 
fect model of clearness and strength. Disappointed in his own 



MA-CHIAVELLI. 2l7 



plans, he bore poverty and suffering with fortitude and calmness. 
Suspected of taking part in a conspiracy against the government, 
he was placed upon the rack, but while the flesh quivered and 
the cheek grew pale, not a murmur, or a word escaped his lips. 
The Medici evidently were afraid of him. Absolutely, he was too 
honest for his generation ; and then he was permitted to die in 
poverty and neglect ! But amid all his trials he enjoyed much 
solid comfort in his " lowly roof and scanty farm" in the Val di 
Pisa. In social chat with his neighbors, in long rambles among 
the fields catching thrushes, and especially in converse with books, 
he made the time pass quite pleasantly. 

"Who sees him not, 
('Tis his own sketch, he drew it of himself,) 
Laden with cages from his shoulder slung, 
And sallying forth while yet the morn is grey, 
To catch a thrush on every lime-twig there ; 
Or in the wood amid his wood cutters ; 
Or in the tavern by the highway side. 
At tric-trac with the miller ; or, at night, 
Doffing his rustic suit, and duly clad, 
Entering his closet, and among his books, 
Among the great of every age and clime, 
A numerous court, turning to whom he pleased, 
Questioning each why he did this or that, 
And learning how to overcome the fear 
Of poverty and death."* 

If Machiavelli represented the politics of his age, it will be al- 
lowed, we think, that Pope Leo the Tenth represented its religion, 
at least in Italy. He has been much praised as the Macsenas of 
literature ; but without any good reason ; for while he patronized 
RafFaele and Bembo, he neglected Ariosto, Machiavelli, and even 

* Rogers' Italy. 
10 



218 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Michael Angelo.* The latter, indeed, was employed upon St. 
Peter's, the grandest monument of his genius ; but he was of a 
character too stern and lofty to please the worldly and epicurean 
pontiff. But who is ignorant of Leo's vaulting ambition, his love 
of pleasure and boundless profusion ? Who does not know that 
by the sale of indulgences, and the scandalous levity and licen- 
tiousness of the Papal court, he did much to precipitate, if not to 
produce the Protestant Reformation ? Himself careless and scep- 

* We are happy to confirm this statement respecting Leo X, by the tes- 
imony of so good a judge and so liberal a man as Mr. Prescott, the histo- 
rian. 

"There are few phrases," says he, (Miscellanies, p. 652,) "more inaccu- 
rately applied than that of the age of Leo X, to whose brief pontificate we 
are accustomed to refer most of the magnificent creations of genius, scattered 
over the sixteenth century, although very few, even of those produced in his 
own reign, can be imputed to his influence. The nature of this influence, 
even in regard to Italian letters, may admit of question. His early taste led 
him to give an almost exclusive attention to the ancient classics. The great 
poets of the century, Ariosto, Sanazzaro, the Tassos, Rucellai, Guarini, and 
the rest, produced their immortal works far from Leo's court. Even Bembo, 
the oracle of liis day, retired in disgust from his patron, and composed liis 
principal writings in his retreat. Ariosto, his ancient friend, he coldly neg- 
lected, while he pensioned the infamous Aretin. He surrounded his table 
with buflfoon literati and parasitical poets, who amused him with feats of im- 
provisation, gluttony and intemperance, some of whom, after expending on 
them his convivial wit, he turned over to public derision, and most of whom, 
debauched in morals and constitution, were abandoned, under his aus- 
tere successor, to infamy and death. He magnificently recompensed his 
musical retainers, making one an archbishop, another archdeacon ; but what 
did he do for his countryman, Machiavelli, the philosopher of hi age ? He 
hunted, and hawked, and caroused ; everything was a jest, and while the 
nations of Europe stood aghast at the growing heresy of Luther, the merry 
pontiff and his ministers found strange matter of mirth in witnessing the 
representations of comedies that exposed the impudent mummeries of 
priestcraft." 



.EO TENTH. 219 



tical, he diffused the same spirit among his clergy. Never was 
there an age when the Papal church, with so much external 
pomp, was so completely corrupted in character and morals. 

*' The memory of Leo, as an Itahaii prince," says Mario tti, 
himself a Catholic, *' is disgraced by a system of irresolute, im- 
provident, unprincipled policy ; as a Roman pontiff, by a lavish, 
venal, simoniacal abuse of his sacred ministry ; as a private man, 
by a free indulgence in a wanton and sometimes even vulgar epi- 
curism." His cardinals, Bembo and Sadoleto, though much 
praised as men of genius, and even of virtue, were both much 
devoted to pleasure. Bembo never abandoned the fair Moro- 
sina, and Sadoleto paid the most devoted attentions to Imperia 
Cortisana Romana, whom he celebrates in his poems. '' The in- 
dulgence of every kind of illicit intercourse was never visited by 
the censure of public opinion, so far, at least, as it was carried on 
in a manner consistent with good taste and refinement. ^ * 
Raphael pined away in his studio for the absence of his Forna- 
rina, and his condescending pontifical patron sent for her, lest the 
sorrow of the love -sick painter should interfere with the progress 
of his works. The epoch of the greatest triumph of letters and 
arts, that golden age when popes called round their shrines such 
men as Bembo and Sadoleto, Contarini, Flaminio, and the accom- 
plished though inconstant and insincere EngHshman, Cardinal 
Pole ; the age of Leo and Clement was also that of the utmost 
depravation of morals.'"^ 

It is no wonder that the Reformation made such rapid and 
delightful progress in Italy, and that so many learned men and 
accomplished women should have embraced it with eagerness 
and joy. But the same system which endured the splendor and 
luxury of Leo, could not suffer the prevalence of a pure and spir- 

* Mariotti — Italy, Past and Present, vol. i. p. 852. 



220 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



itual faith. The Italian States, and many of their rulers, were 
themselves averse to persecution ; but the Papal See, backed by 
Jesuit and Dominican monks, compelled them to perform the re- 
luctant service. Hundreds were thrown into prison, some were 
beheaded, others were drowned, others burned, and others, espe- 
cially in the south, massacred by thousands. A great number 
of learned and pious men were driven into exile, their estates 
confiscated, and their writings burnt. Persecution, which in other 
countries has rather tended to increase the power of dissent, in 
Italy extinguished it. Free inquiry was crushed under the hoof 
of spiritual and political tyranny. 

We have already passed over the golden age of Italian poetry. 
During the latter part of the sixteenth, and during the seventeenth 
centuries, no poet of commanding genius arose in Italy. Accom- 
plished and learned men indeed appeared in abundance, but none 
that could bear a moment's comparison with the Tassos and Ari- 
ostos of a former age. The national taste was corrupted, and 
found its chief expression in odes and sonnets, abounding in con- 
ceits, and marked by an excessive refinement. Giambatista 
Marini, certainly a man of genius, and the author of a spirited 
and beautiful poem, entitled " Fading Beauty," was the chief 
agent of this corruption. The learned languages were preferred 
to the ItaHan, while the great body of the poets were a race of 
gay and giddy triflers. Perhaps we ought to make an exception 
in favor of Filicaja, whose sonnet on Italy has been so highly 
honored by Byron, Rogers and others. He was born in Florence, 
in 1642, and died in the. same place, in lYOY. His Canzoni on 
the Siege of Vienna are lofty and spirit-stirring ; and some of his 
odes are characterized by great beauty and energy. He steadily 
opposed the prevalent taste, and did what he could to promote 
the true interests of literature in his native land. Highly honored 
by princes p<nd governments, he was distinguished by a rare mod- 



GALILEO. 221 



esty ; and, during most of his life, spent his time in tranquillity, 
dividing his hours between the study of poetry, the duties of reli- 
gion, and the education of his children. The following sonnet 
we think nearly equal to that on Italy. 



TIME. 

" I saw a mighty river, wild and vast, 

Whose rapid waves were moments that did glide 
So swiftly onward in their silent tide, 
That ere their flight was heeded they were past ; 
A river that to death's dark shores doth fast 
Conduct all living with resistless force, 
And though unfelt pursues its noiseless course, 
To quench all fires in Lethe's stream at last. 
Its current with creation's birth was bom ; 

And with the heavens commenced its march sublime, 
In days and months still hurrying on untired. 
Marking its flight, I inwardly did mourn, 

And of my musing thoughts in doubt inquired 
The river's name — my thoughts responded. Time." 

♦ 
If the poetry of Italy declined in the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries, philosophy burst upon the world with a power and 
splendor which awed the nations. Thought, free and spontaneous, 
awoke, even in the bosom of the Papal Church, with all the 
energy of a youthful giant, and proclaimed its rights. Crushed 
for a time by the power of the Inquisition, it rose again with re- 
newed vigor, and not only asserted, but made good its claim to 
universal homage. Born in the sixteenth, Galileo really belonged 
to the seventeenth century. All his great discoveries were made 
at the opening of that era of mental and moral power. He was 
born in Pisa, in 1564, and expired at Florence, beyond the city 
walls, in the arms of his favorite pupil, Viviani, in 1642, the year 



222 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



in which Newton was born. He was contemporary with Kepler, 
who, from the depths of Germany, addressed to him words of 
encouragement and cheer. Galileo, discovering from the swing- 
ing of a lamp in the great cathedral of Pisa, the isochronism of 
the pendulum, Keplei* cried out to him, '* Take courage, and go 
forward ;'' Confide ^ Oalilao, et progredere ! They were men of 
kindred genius, acute, penetrating, and bold. Both possessed 
that self-reliance, and that divine enthusiasm which ensure suc- 
cess. Kepler was especially distinguished for this. Before re- 
solving a problem, he exclaims, Lubet indulgere sacra furoriy " I 
abandon myself to the sacred passion.'* Galileo saw God in na- 
ture ; but Kepler not only saw God there, but worshipped him 
with trembling delight. He mingles with his formulas and rea- 
sonings, prayers, canticles, and hymns. Both, too, knew that 
they were right, and that truth would conquer at last. After 
recanting, on his knees, before the Inquisition, the principles he 
had taught relative to the motion of the earth, Galileo was heard 
muttering in a low tone, E jpur si muove — ** and yet it moves !" 
Kepler opens his treatise upon the motions of the heavenly 
bodies with these words, at once lofty and pious : " The die is 
cast. I write a book which will be read by my contemporaries, 
or by posterity, no matter which ! It may wait for a reader a 
hundred years if need be, since God himself has waited six thou- 
sand years for a witness of his works. "^ Galileo was not as 
devout as Kepler, or even Copernicus, but he possessed too much 
acuteness and candor not to acknowledge the presence of Infinite 
wisdom in the starry host. " Keep silence,'* said one of old, 
"and we shall hear the murmur of the gods.'* Science is essen- 
tially devout. It sees and worships the Divine amid the forms 
and semblances of things. It was this which awed the spirit of 

* Quinet's " Koman Chnrch.** 



GALILEO. 223 



Newton, and induced him to say, '' We account the Scriptures of 
God the most subhme philosophy !'^ Linnaeus, discovering the 
laws of life in the minutest animals, exclaimed : '' Deum, sempi- 
ternum, omnisciumy omnipotentem a tergo transeuntem vidi, et oh- 
stupui '^ — " I saw the everlasting, omniscient, omnipotent God 
pass by me, and I was afraid." While Galileo was of an easy, 
joyous, Ariostic turn of mind, he mingles with his treatises ac- 
knowledgments of the Divine supremacy, wisdom, and goodness. 
But he was a bold, original thinker ; and that was heresy in his 
day, not to be tolerated by the priesthood of Rome. The Pope, 
Urban VIII., was a man of narrow views, and selfish purposes. 
He could not endure the free spirit of Galileo. The doctrine of the 
earth's motion disturbed his equanimity. He declared it " perverse 
in the highest degree.'' It had been proclaimed before, even in Italy, 
by Copernicus, the Polish philosopher, the morning-star of modern 
science, but timidly, and without much effect. Galileo brought it 
into notice, explained it, proved it, by the clearest demonstrations. 
He demolished at a blow the supremacy of Aristotle, and flashed 
the light of truth in the eyes of his doting worshippers. The clergy 
had consecrated the system of Ptolemy, and clung to it with the 
grasp of death. When that fell, they supposed that the Church 
must fall with it. The very heavens threatened their destruction. 
So they pounced upon Galileo, tore him from Florence, humbled his 
proud spirit by the fire of their terrible anathemas, and because 
they could not fetter his free thought, cast him into the Inquisi- 
tion. Other scientific men in Italy had been persecuted for too 
much freedom of thought ; and it may be regarded as something 
singular, that in the very hot-bed of bigotry, so much true sci- 
ence should have sprung up to enlighten the world. Severi, a 
disMnguished physician, was beheaded and thrown into the flames 
at Modena. Fra Paoli, as stated in a former part of this work, 
nearly lost his life by a Papal poniard. Barozzi, a mathema- 



224 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



tician, expired under the pressure of tortures which his age and 
infirmities could not sustain. The mild and learned Telesio strug- 
gled bravely against the assaults of Rome, but finally yielded, 
through sheer exhaustion, and died prematurely, from disappoint- 
ment and chagrin. Giordano Bruno, profound and wayward, 
found no rest for the sole of his foot ; after being expelled from 
all religious communions, he fell into the hands of the Inquisition 
at Venice, was sent to Rome, and there actually burnt at the 
stake. The noble Giannone was banished from Naples, and died 
in the dungeons of the Inquisition. 

It was not a natural, but a mental and social death to which 
Galileo was subjected. His works were interdicted and burnt ; 
and a solemn prohibition laid upon the action of his lofty spirit. 
Subjected to severe penance, he was forbidden to speculate, and 
above all to communicate his views to the world. When taken 
from the Inquisition, and sent back to Florence, he was confined 
at Arcetri, and an absolute silence enforced upon him for the 
rest of his life. At times he w^as cheerful, wandering amid his 
vines, sitting in the sunny radiance, or gazing upon the starry 
heavens, in whose mysterious depths his spirit found a congenial 
home. But he was old and heart-broken. His eyes, accustomed 
to gaze at the sun, failed him ; and his beloved daughter, Maria 
Celeste, the nun, who read to him the penitential psalms, imposed 
as a penance by the church, grew pale and passed away. That 
strong, free, joyous spirit, at last yields to the terrible pressure, 
and falls into darkness and sorrow. " An immense sadness and 
melancholy — una e melancoUa immensa/^ says he, " overwhelms 
me." After years of trial and grief, he dies in the arms of his 
favorite pupil, Yiviani, and Rome is satisfied. But can his 
thoughts die? Never! ''All hell," to use the language ofHhe 
Venetian, Micanzio, uttered when the works of Galileo were bu- 
ried by his friends, " All hell cannot destroy things like these." The 



GALILEO. 225 



reformation of science as well as of religion advances, even in 
Italy ; and if the one has somewhat preceded the other, in this 
respect, the other will come in due time. 

" Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, 
The eternal years of God are hers !' 

, While Gahleo was in Arcetri, old and blind, John Milton, in his 
youthful prime, came thither and had much pleasant converse 
with the venerable philosopher, a circumstance interesting in it- 
self, and furnishing food for deep reflection : 

" There, unseen. 
In manly beauty Milton stood before him 
Gazing with reverent awe — Milton his guest, 
Just then come forth, all life and enterprise ; 
He in his old age and extremity, 
Blind, at noon-day exploring with his staff; 
His eyes upturned as to the golden sun, 
His eyeballs idly rolling. Little then 
Did Galileo think whom he received ; 
That in his hand he held the hand of one 
Who could requite him — who would spread his name 
O'er lands and seas — great as himself, nay, greater ; 
Milton as little thought in him he saw, 
As in a glass, what he himself should be ; 
Destined so soon, alas ! to live 
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round 
And solitude."* 

Italy has prosecuted scientific research with considerable suc- 
cess. The names of Torricelli, Yolta, Borelli, Galvani and others, 
are enrolled in the annals of science with those of Davy, Watt 
and Berzelius. Galileo takes his place with Kepler, Newton and 
Laplace. • 

* Italy, by Rogers. 
10* 



226 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



But we return to the subject of poetry in Italy, and will close 
this chapter with a few words respecting some of the most dis- 
tinguished writers in that department, from the close of the sev- 
enteenth century to the present time. 

The eighteenth century opened with Metastasio, in his day the 
most popular writer of melo-dramatic verse, but with a waning 
reputation in more recent times, and ended with Parini, author of 
II Giorno, a vigorous and lively satire on the dissolute manners 
of the age ; Goldoni, the father of Italian comedy ; and Alfieri, the 
the last of the classics, and the greatest Italian dramatist of his 
age. His beautiful tomb, by his friend Canova, in Santa Croce, 
where, in his lifetime, he loved to wander, meditating on the 
glories of the mighty dead, is a worthy tribute to his memory. 
Despising the degeneracy of his countrymen and the prevalence 
of a spurious taste in literature, he consecrated himself to the 
study of the ancient Italian poets, and the formation of a pure 
and manly style. His tragedies, indeed, want freedom and elas- 
ticity, but they are instinct with strength and grandeur. Circum- 
scribed and rigid in their form, they can scarcely be termed poet- 
ical, but they abound in lofty sentiments and severe eloquence. 
Groups of marble, as they have been styled, or rather single 
statues, majestic and incorruptible, they possess neither the hue 
nor the freshness of life. But he succeeded in driving Metastasio, 
with his melo-dramatic inanities, from the stage, and giving an im- 
pulse to a nobler and purer taste. 

Perhaps the manner in which Alfieri composed his dramas may 
account, in some degree, for their peculiarities. He wrote out his 
plays in prose, almost at a heat ; then, after a season, threw them 
into verse ; and, on a third revision, gave them accuracy and finish. 
The first conception of his subject was suggested while listening 
to music. Impassioned and ambitious, he yielded himself wholly 
to the impulse, and afterwards chiselled the production of his 



ALFIERI. 227 



imagination into form and beauty. One of his dramas, he tells 
us, was composed while shedding a torrent of tears. 

It may be interesting to know that Alfieri cherished the pro- 
foundest admiration of Washington, and dedicated his '' Brutus" 
to that distinguished man, with expressions of affectionate venera- 
tion. But, like Byron and many others, he could say : nosco 
meliora, prohoque, deterioraque sequor, "I know and approve 
the good, but pursue the evil."* It is one thing to admire free- 
dom and virtue, another to be free and virtuous ourselves. Would 
to heaven that the poets and patriots of Italy had but half the purity 
and self-sacrificing devotion of that greatest of men, the father 
of American liberty. 

Alfieri possessed a strong but wayward nature. Outwardly 
cold and stern, his whole interior being was a volcano of passion. 
He was at once proud and irascible, sceptical and ambitious. 
With indomitable resolution he overcame the difficulties of his 
position, and the want of early culture, and left an indelible mark 
upon the literature of his country. *' The appearance of Alfieri," 
says Mr. Prescott, ** at this late season, of a genius so austere, in 
the midst of the voluptuous, sybarite effeminacy of the period, 
is a remarkable phenomenon. It was as if the severe Doric pro- 
portions of a P^stum temple had been suddenly raised up amid 
the airy forms of Palladian architecture."! 

A new era in Italian literature, and we may add in Italian life, 
which had run down during the preceding age to its lowest point, 
commenced with the nineteenth century. Fresh elements, deriv- 
ed from the influence of English and German literature, and the 
spirit of revolution, have inspired it with a wider sympathy, a 

^ These words Byron applied to himself in his interesting letter to the 
Rev. Mr. Shepard. In spirit and life, Byron and Alfieri were too much 
ahke. 

f Miscellanies. 



228 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



stronger life. It has not reached its highest attainment, but it is 
full of energy and promises. Foscolo, Pellico, Monti, and above 
all, Manzoni, Niccolini, Gioberti, and others of kindred spirit, in- 
dicate the possession of much breadth and vigor of mind. The 
last three are highly devout as well as poetical in their turn 
of mind ; and with some errors of view, yearn for freedom and 
progress. They belong to the age which, in Italy as elsewhere, 
is one of revolution and reform. 

The history of Niccolini, who resides in Florence, in this re- 
spect is eminently instructive."^' He was born in Pisa in 1786, of 
a noble Florentine family, and descended on the mother's side 
from the celebrated Filicaja, from whom he seems to inherit his 
lofty virtue and love of freedom. He has distinguished himself 
chiefly by his dramatic writings, all of which breathe the spirit 
of liberty, and aim at the regeneration of Italy. On this account 
he has been styled '' the poet of liberalism.'' Indeed, his popu- 
larity among his countrymen is based upon this ground. His 
genius, perhaps, is not equal to that of Alfieri, but his mind is 
broad, generous, and sympathetic ; his tragedies are national and 
enthusiastic, and well fitted to arouse his countrymen to the as- 
sertion of their civil and religious rights. His most popular dra- 
mas are " Antonio Foscarini," *' Giovanni da Procida," and *' Ar- 
noldo da Brescia." These have been received by his countrymen 
with a storm of applause, because they utter the deep throbbings 
of the popular heart. At first, however, the plays of Niccolini 
were prohibited by the government, controlled in this instance by 
the mfluence of Austria, which dreaded their effect. " Arnoldo 
da Brescia" appeared in 1844, and was instantly prohibited 
throughout Italy, f Reproducing, in grand and vivid colors, the 

* Niccolini is Professor in the Academy of Fine Arts at Florence, 
f Arnold, of Brescia, lived in the early part of the twelfth century, and 
was a man of singular learning, courage, and patriotism. He was a disci- 



NICCOLINI. 229 



noble sentiments of Arnold of Brescia, whose spirit burned with a 
divine enthusiasm for freedom, civil and religious, it was a book to 
make tyrants tremble on their thrones. It denounced, in thunder 
tones, the double tyranny of the Church and Empire — of Austria 
and of Rome, under which Italy has groaned for ages. Vindi- 
cating the rights of conscience, it insisted upon the . separation of 
Church and State, of " Ccesar and Peter, ^^ long leagued for the 
oppression of the Italians. It called the people of Italy to union, 
and uttered a cry of warning and of cheer, which echoed from 
the Alps to Calabria. The book was printed at Marseilles, and 
the custom-houses of every Italian State were commanded to 
prevent its entrance into the peninsula. Tuscany, though loving 
Niccolini, and cherishing his principles, could not stand alone and 
refuse to join in the prohibition. But good books are alive and 
winged, and no restrictions can prevent their entrance into the 
darkest regions of tyranny and wrong. In a few weeks three 
thousand copies were sold in Florence alone ! The Grand Duke, 
liberal in his sentiments, winked at the sale, and lent a deaf ear to 
the minions of tyranny who urged him to prosecute the author. 
The following passage, addressed by Arnold of Brescia to Pope 
Adrian, will give some idea of the quality of the work : 



pie of the celebrated Abelard, and maintained the propriety of a separation 
of Church and State, the right of the people to govern themselves according 
to the principles of freedom and righteousness, and the necessity of an en- 
tire reformation in the Church. He succeeded in persuading the Romans to 
establish a repubUc, which was demolished by Pope Adrian IV, and the 
Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. Alas ! Arnold was born out of due time» 
and, consequently, he was crucified as a heretic and rebel, his body was 
burned, and the ashes thrown into the Tiber, that his followers might have 
no relic or memorial of their leader. 



230 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Adrian, thy hope deceives thee. Through the earth 
The terror of Rome's thunderbolt grows weak ; 
Reason has loosed the bonds thou fain wouldst make 
Eternal — time will be, she will burst them. 
As yet she is not thoroughly aroused ; 
Already human thought has so rebelled, 

Tis not in thee to rule it. Christ cries to it, " 

As whilom to the sick man — ' Rise and walk ;* 
'Twill trample thee if thou wilt not proceed. 
The world has truths other than those proclaimed 
Forth from thy altars ; and no more endures 
Temples that hide high heaven from its gaze. 
Pastor thou hast been — be a father. Man 
Will no more own himself a shepherd's flock, 
Too long struck backwards by the pastoral staff. 
Mankind hath tarried on its onward march. 
Wherefore hast thou trampled thus, in Heaven's name, 
On man, the last born son of God's decree ?" 

These lines give but a feeble impression of the beauty and harmo- 
ny of the original, but they serve to indicate the nobleness of the 
author's sentiments, and the vigor and boldness with which he 
expresses them. What a grand and striking conception is that 
which represents Christ saying to human thought, " Rise up and 
walk !*' 

At the time we write, Niccolini is considerably advanced in years, 
but vigorous and active. He has lived to see the partial triumph 
of his principles in Florence, and if spared a few years longer will 
witness their complete triumph, not only in Florence, but through- 
out the whole Italian peninsula. Long may he enjoy '* his green 
old age," the love and applause of his countrymen, and the re- 
spect and admiration of the world. 

We have space only to mention the names of Berchet and 
Giusti, poets of young Italy, of kindred sentiments with Niccolini. 



MAZZINI. 231 



Giusti has been called *' the Beranger of Italy," and has written 
some keen and pointed satires.* 

* We append the following account of Mr. Mazzini, one of the most re- 
markable of modern Italians, and for a long time the leader of Young Italy. 
It is extracted from a letter of M. Felice, the correspondent of the New 
York Observer. 

" A young man, born at Genoa, Mr. Mazzini, established at Marseilles, in 
1832, a journal entitled : Young Italy, (Giovane Italia.) Mr. Mazzini had all 
the enthusiasm, all the impetuosity, and all the inexperience of youth ; he 
was full of the most generous but inconsiderate zeal. He thought that the 
mass of the Italians would devote themselves, body and soul, to liberty. 
Blaming the chiefs and the rich men for lacking courage, he appealed to the 
populace. A true republican, he attacked kings, princes, and all monarch- 
ical institutions. In his journal he exposed the punishments inflicted on the 
patriots. * Italians,* said he, 'awake at last from your sleep. Rise, march 
against Austria, against your tyrants, and at your shout for liberty you will 
see vanish all signs of despotism !' 

" It is needless to say that the reading of this journal was strictly pro- 
hibited by the Italian princes. In Piedmont, a royal decree provides that 
whoever shall have in his house copies of the Young Italy, shall be con- 
demned to the galleys for three years I an effectual means, truly, to prevent 
pernicious reading ! The prosecutions were so rigid that even contraband- 
ists refused to import the numbers of this journal ; they preferred all other 
merchandise to this. Yet, thanks to the zeal of the patriots, the Young 
Italy penetrated everywhere. There were in each province in each city, se- 
cret agents who disseminated copies of the journal, at night, at the doors of 
the theatre and other frequented places. Never did a periodical paper 
more deeply agitate the minds of a community. At the voice of Mr. Maz- 
zini, a vast conspiracy was formed. The cities of Genoa and Alexandria 
were the chief centres of this republican movement. Turin and Chambery 
were also roused, and it seemed as if all was ready for a terrible revolution. 

*• Mr. Mazzini, harassed at Marseilles by the French police, thought the 
favorable moment was come to lay down the pen and take the sword. He 
joined a company of Polish exiles. Some hundreds of Italians joined them 
at Geneva, under the command of Ramorino, and this small band pene- 
trated, in 1883, into the coimtry of Savoy. But the enterprise failed. The 



232 GENIUS OF ITALY 



The Abbe Lambruschmi, nephew of the cardinal of that name, 
deserves the respect and affection of all good men. He has re- 
nounced, for freedom and the truth, the most distinguished pros- 
pects, and devotes himself, chiefly through the pages of the 
Florence La P atria, to the defense of civil and religious liberty. 
'* men of little faith," exclaims Lambruschini, with indignant elo- 
quence, addressing his fellow priests, " why do you fear hberty 
of conscience and of worship ? Do ye not confide in the force 
of truth ? Do ye not know that God reigns, and that he makes 
all things concur to his glory ? Where the Spirit of the Lord is, 
there is liberty. Liberty is not to be feared, neither for religion, 
nor for Christians, nor for ourselves." 

But we have lingered too long in Florence, and must be oflf be- 
fore the dawning of the day, in the direction of Rome. 

peasantry of Italy and the people generally, refused to join the insurgents. 
Ramorino abandoned the expedition, before he had even met the enemy ; 
and Mr. Mazzini, discouraged, fled for refuge to London. 

" For eight years he kept wholly silent. He almost despaired of the de- 
liverance of his country. He now publishes in England a new journal under 
the title of the People^ s Messenger, {Apostolato popolare.) The name 
indicates its aim. Mr. Mazzini has established a sort of school for Italian 
common people ; to them his journal is addressed ; by them he expects to 
regenerate Italy." 

Mr. Mazzini, we believe, is now in Rome, actively engaged with Mamiani, 
and others, in revolutionizing the country. 

The course of Mr. Mazzini in the Roman revolution is well known. 
Charged by his enemies as a visionary, he has developed the highest qual- 
ities of intellect and courage. If Rome could have been saved, he certainly 
deserved to be her saviour. But, alas ! Mazzini is once more an exile from 
his native land. See Appendix. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Rome — The Campagna — Approach to the city — Its General Aspects — 
View from the Capitol — Its sacred or ecclesiastical character — Rome a 
Chm-ch — Its citizens, priests, monks, shrines, relics, chm'ches, ceremonies, 
etc. — The Pope — Religious services — Pagan element^ — A stroll towards 
the Vatican, Coliseum, etc. — Capella della Humilta — Services — Preach- 
ing. 

We have left Tuscany, and entered the States of the Church, and 
are at once impressed with the poverty-stricken aspect of 
the country. How unlike New England or old England, with its 
beauty and thrift — how inferior even to the vine-fields of Etruria, 
and the plains of Lombardy. Whatever benefits Rome has con- 
ferred upon other parts of the world, it has been a grievous bur- 
den to central Italy. The splendor of Rome has impoverished 
the people. 

Before us stretches the desolate Campagna, once " the garden 
of the Lord,^' now the dreariest and sickliest region in Christen- 
dom. Encircling the " holy city," as devout Cathohcs love to 
call it, itself suffering from internal exhaustion and decay, the 
Campagna furnishes a sad emblem of the withered and fruitless 
condition of the Papal church. We pass through it as we should 
pass through a church-yard, with a sort of mournful awe ; for, 
after all, it is hallowed ground. Here, with their colossal armies, 
once trod the masters of the world ; and yonder, gleaming in the 
light of a bright and balmy noon, that strange old city, with its 
mighty memories and magnificent ruins. 



234 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



As we approach it, tower, column and temple, triumphal arch 
and hoary ruin rise, distinct and beautiful, before our fixed and 
half-dreamy gaze. Bewildered with the new and stirring thoughts 
that rush upon our mind, we scarcely notice the dreary condition 
of the outskirts of the city, or the lazy, squalid-looking beggars 
that begin to beleaguer our carriage, with their whining ** Carita, 
Signor ! Carita Signor !" 

Well, well, it must be so ! The shadow of Rome, next to Je- 
rusalem the most interesting city in the world, is upon our spirits, 
and we yield to the impression. " Lone mother of dead empires !'* 
" the Niobe of nations !'' 

" there she stands, 
Changeless and crownless in her voiceless woe." 

Yet glorious even in her decay, enshrining all fair forms, all au- 
gust images, all thrilling associations, quickened moreover into 
something hke new life by the spirit of change and revolution 
now pervading the nations. 

Passing the Porta del Popolo, on the site of the old Flaminian 
gate, and thence into the Piazza del Popolo, we soon find ourselves 
in the heart of Rome, still dreaming of the past, and feeling that 
we are in a city rather of the dead than of the living — 

" the city that so long 
Reigned absolute, the mistress of the world, 
The mighty vision that the prophet saw 
And trembled." 

It seems strange to be moving, in broad daylight, under the 
shadow of the Capitoline hill, to skirt the old Roman forum, the 
Tarpeian rock and the Mamertine prison, to gaze upon the Par- 
thenon, and catch a glimpse of the " yellow Tiber," the Castle 
of St. Angelo, and the Dome of St. Peter's. 



ROME. 235 

" Ah, little thought I, when in school I sat, 
A schoolboy on his bench, in early dawn, 
Glowing with Roman story, I should live 
To tread the Appian — 

— or climb the Palatine, 
Long while the seat of Rome I" 

But it is chiefly as the seat of the early triumphs of Christian- 
ity, the scene of apostohc toils and holy martyrdoms, that we feel 
so peculiar an interest in visiting Rome. Here, in the early days 
of the Church, thousands were converted from heathenism to the 
rehgion of the cross, and shed their blood in its defense. Here a 
terrible struggle went on for ages between paganism and Chris- 
tianity, when at last Christianity conquered and placed itself upon 
the throne of the Caesars. But alas! it was speedily vitiated by 
false admixtures, and worldly policy. Encircled with pomp and 
splendor, and forgetting the purity and simplicity of its early days, 
it grew into a monstrous form of despotism and corruption. True, 
it was infinitely better than paganism ; it yet possessed some re- 
deeming features, some sacred elements of purity and power, and 
in a barbarous age, exerted over society some controlling and civ- 
ilizing influence. Notwithstanding its degeneracy, what might, 
what majesty did it not exhibit ! Overshadowing the earth, and 
placing its foot on the neck of kings, it formed an object of ad- 
miration to the world, '' a mystery" enshrined amid the symbols 
of religion and sensual display, inspiring dread and wonder in all 
beholders. It yet possesses elements of power, and were it only 
divested of its ultra-montanism, its spirit of bigotry and supersti- 
tion, its Papal hierarchy, and armies of monks, it might yet bless 
the world. It is not so much Catholicism as Popery — not so , 
much the great body of Catholic worshippers as the spirit of 
Jesuitism, superstition and idolatry, which constitutes the Anti- 
christ of Rome. It is difficult, however, if not impossible, to 



236 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



burn the husks and thorns, without at the same time destroying 
the precious flower which they are intended to guard. The 
church of Rome, as an external institution, is tottering to its faU. 
Its foundations are sapped, and less than a century will see it in 
the dust. Yet is it even now, a vast and mysterious power, fitted 
to excite the deepest emotions, and well worthy of the profoundest 
study ; like some huge edifice in the desert, covered with the weeds 
of ages, and gradually yielding to the might of all- destroying time. 

Could Rome, indeed, blend with the spirit of the age — could 
she take into her bosom the life and energy of science and free 
inquiry — could slie exorcise her wretched superstitions, her low 
fetich ism and fanatical spirit — could she place her children 
under the guidance of the Word and Spirit of God, instead of 
traditions and hearsays ; above all, could she imbibe the free 
spirit of an enlarged and devout Protestantism, she might yet 
be regenerated, and become the centre of a new and glorious 
form of civilization. The problem, however, is all but impos- 
sible of solution. Already the spirit of change and reform has 
shaken her to the centre, and the world are gazing, in mute ex- 
pectation, upon the throes and agitations of the Papal See. No 
shrewd or thoughtful man will be astonished, if, in a few years, 
the Pope should be shorn of half his power, and become, not- 
withstanding his recent, but waning popularity, a by-word and a 
proverb among the nations. 

The city of Rome contains a population of a hundred and fifty, 
or, perhaps, in summer time, when strangers abound there, a 
hundred and seventy thousand ; a goodly portion of whom are 
priests, monks, nuns and beggars, who are of all orders, condi- 
tions and colors, black, blue, white and grey, and may be seen at 
any time of the day, or in any part of the city — some lounging 
in their scarlet carriages, and others gliding, sandalled and bare- 
headed, along the streets and avenues. 



ROME. 237 

The city may be described as consisting of two parts, the new 
and the old cities, interlocking, however, at particular points ; 
still most of the ruins of the old city lie on one side of the new, 
and form a distinct portion of the whole. They cover the seven 
hills, a part of which only is occupied by the modern city, which 
extends towards the north and west, to a considerable distance 
beyond the Tiber, and covers other hills, which have received new 
names. The Capitol, indeed, and several of the ruins of the 
ancient city, are embraced within the limits of the new; but the 
Aventine, Esquiline, Palatine, Yiminal and Celian hills, the Fo- 
rum, the Cohseum, the Arches of Cons tan tine and Titus, the 
gardens of Mecaenas and the Baths of Titus, lie on one side of the 
modern city, forming a long line of beautiful suburbs to the east 
and south. 

Another division of the city might be given — that, namely, which 
is made by the Tiber, which separates it into two parts, making a 
graceful sweep from one end of the city to the other. On one 
side would be found a strip of houses running along the right 
bank of the river, with St. Peter's and the Vatican, forming what 
may be called the westerji part of the city. The other would 
contain a considerable portion of the new city, the principal 
streets and pubHc edifices, with almost the w^hole of the old, em- 
bracing the seven hills and the principal ruins. 

The Tiber, a slow and turbid stream, but possessing a beauty 
of its own, is spanned by several picturesque bridges, two or three 
of which belonged to the ancient city, reminding us of the days 
of Horace, who sang its praises to the music of the lyre. The 
principal is that of St. Angelo, adorned with marble statues, and 
terminating in the Castle of St. Angelo, once the Mausoleum of 
Adrian, but now the principal fortress of the city. On the top 
stands the statue of an angel, sword in hand, and the sides are 
bristling with cannon. Within are prisons and dungeons, some 



238 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



of them formed for ingenious torture. It was in that old castle 
that Benvenuto Cellini, the famous Florentine goldsmith and 
sculptor was confined, by the orders of an ungrateful Pope, and 
from which he made one of the most miraculous escapes, though 
nearly killing himself in the attempt. It was there that Bene- 
detto Fojano suffered a horrid and .lingering death by starvation, 
for the crime of being a too eloquent and popular preacher, and 
that Ludovico PaschaH, a Protestant from Piedmont, was stran- 
gled and burned for proclaiming the Gospel in Calabria.* 

The castle of St. Angelo has an underground communication 
to St. Peter's, which has been occasionally used by the Popes in 
times of danger and emergency. For years it remained closed, 
but it was reopened some time since by Gregory Sixteenth. 

Taken as a whole, Rome must be pronounced one of the most 
magnificent cities in the world. It stands upon a noble site, pos- 
sesses a great number of superb edifices and majestic views, is 
adorned with spacious squares and fountains, and contains innu- 
merable specimens of the most perfect painting and statuary, 
both of ancient and of modern times. Everywhere you meet ob- 
jects which interest and please the mind. In one place is an im- 
mense and beautiful fountain, throwing up jets of virgin water, 
with a pleasant, gushing sound. In another is a column or an 
obelisk, brought from Greece or Egypt, or, it may be, dug from 
the ruins of the ancient city. Here is the Pillar of Trajan, adorned 
with an image of the apostle Peter, an incongruity, to be sure, 
but not an unpleasant one. Yonder is that of Antoninus Pius, 

* Many other Protestants suffered martyrdom at Rome. The celebrated 
Florentine nobleman and Protestant, Carnessecchi, was beheaded and burned 
at Rome, 1567. Bartolomeo Bartoccio, son of a wealthy citizen of Oastello, 
was condemned to be burnt alive in the same city. With a firm step, he 
went to the place of execution, and whilst the flames enveloped his body 
he was heard exclaiming, " Vittoria I Vittoria r — Victory ! Victory I 



ROME. 239 

surmounted by the statue of the apostle Paul. Beyond is the 
hoary ruin of a heathen temple, transformed into a Christian 
church. For, be it known, everything here is lustrated and puri- 
fied by the Popes, and changed from a pagan to a Christian use. 

Ascend the stairs of the Capitol, and at the top you meet the 
colossal statues of Castor and Pollux, standing by their noble 
steeds ; near them are the trophies of Marcus, and the two col- 
umns which served to measure the Roman empire, and in the 
square behind, the celebrated statue of Marcus Aurelius, which 
Michael Angelo was wont to admire as the very master- piece of 
art, saying that the horse did not seem to stand, but to move. 

In the square fronting the palace of the Pope, on Monte Ca- 
vallo, is another superb fountain, guarded by two colossal statues 
of Alexander the Great and his horses ; the one by Phidias, as is 
supposed, and the other by Praxiteles, so perfect that the noble 
animals, for an instant, seem to be alive. Before the church of 
St. John Lateran is an elegant and lofty obehsk, brought from the 
Temple of the Sun in Thebes, with its mystic hieroglyphics. An- 
other of a similar description stands in the area fronting St. 
Peter's, between two magnificent fountains, whose waters are 
seen falling and plashing, with a musical sound, in the soft silence 
which reigns around. Other obelisks, columns and statues, of an 
inferior description, are scattered over the city, in the squares, 
and by the fountains. 

The ruins of the old city, so vast and hoary, intermingling in 
part with the buildings of the modern one, impart to the whole a 
character of peculiar solemnity and grandeur, while the neighbor- 
ing Campagna, so silent and deserted, and the dark volcanic 
mountains, which skirt the horizon, greatly heighten the effect. 

But it must be confessed that Rome suffers by a minute in- 
spection. Many of the buildings, even of the modern city, are 
mean and going to decay. Most of the streets are narrow and 



240 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



filthy beyond endurance. Beggars everywhere abonnd. Fou 
meet them at the corners of every street, and even by the altar 
of St. Peter's, arid in the centre of the Cohseum. Nuisances of 
every description invade churches and palaces, and produce an 
abominable stench throughout the city. The mass of the people 
are excessively popr. Yice, and especially licentiousness, is prev- 
alent, the foundling hospitals being generally well filled with ille- 
gitimate children; and, besides, there is such a swarming of 
priests, such a profusion of paltry images of the Virgin and saints, 
such evident marks of superstition, ignorance and vice, that it 
requires an effort to think worthily of the eternal city. The most 
delightful part of it is that which covers the site of ancient Rpme, 
the Forum, lying among the seven hills, and the venerable ruins 
around, intermingled with gardens and trees. 

But let us forget all that is unpleasant in Rome, and attempt 
a description of the ancient city, with its ruins, beautiful even in 
their decay. The finest view is enjoyed from the tower of the 
Capitol. The Capitol itself is full of interesting recollections. Its 
lofty heights were formerly covered with a succession of palaces, 
temples, and statues, of which scarce a vestige remains. Their 
place is occupied by modern structures built by Michael Angelo, 
on the ruins of the old. On one part of it was the temple of 
Jupiter Capitolinus, on another, those of Jupiter Moneta, Fortuna 
Primogenia, Vejovis, and others. On that side is the Tarpeian 
rock, down which malefactors were precipitated into the Forum, a 
distance of a hundred feet. Below is the tranquil Forum, guarded 
by the seven hills, adorned with arches, temples, and statues. 
To the left is the Carcere Mamertina, in which Jugurtha, the 
Numidian warrior, was starved to death, and where, tradition 
says, the Apostle Paul was confined nine months previous to his 
martyrdom. We might go down into its cold, damp dungeons, 
and could readily believe that it was the very place where the 



;>^^ 




j^j^i i,»r /^ ///^^ 



ROME. 241 

great apostle of tlie Gentiles awaited the hour of liis martyrdom. 
Our feelings, however, would be much disturbed by finding it 
converted into a CathoHc chapel, where priests are mumbling, in 
rapid and careless tones, their Latin prayers, for the edification 
of their superstitious flocks, and two fellows are selhng the holy 
water, flowing '' miraculously'^ from the rock, to the numberless 
pilgrims who flock there at this season of the year ; while, to 
crown the whole and make it as ridiculous as possible, a boy sta- 
tioned inside the door is rattling his box of copper offerings in 
the face of every person who enters, in order to attract their at- 
tention, and secure their gifts."* The story goes, (and the Cath- 
olic clergy encourage all such stories,) that there was no water in 
the prison, till the apostle, by a miracle, brought it from the rock, 
and thence, that it possesses wondrous efficacy. The devotees 
come crowding along, and paying their bioc apiece, are supplied 
each with half a tumbler of the precious liquid, which they drink 
with devout satisfaction. But if all this mummery and chicanery 
were absent, and we were to go down alone into this gloomy 
dungeon, lighted with a lamp or two, it would require no efibrt 
to abstract our minds from the present and palpable, and hold 
fellowship with the spirit of that wonderful old man, who re- 
joiced in the prospect even of a cruel and ignominious death. 
Behind the Mamertine prison is the front of the temple of Anto- 
ninus and Fausta, and further along the street is that of Minerva, 
now forming the fronts and ornaments of Catholic churches. At 
the other end of the Forum you see the arch of Titus, which com- 
memorates the destruction of Jerusalem, and under which no Jew 
will pass ; and immediately beyond it, near the Coliseum, the 
arch of Constantino, a beautiful and imposing ruin, standing 
" alone in its glory.'* 

* We happened to visit the Mamertine prison during St. Paul's week 
when services are held there daily. 
11 



242 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Just beyond the Forum you see the Coliseum, the greater por- 
tion of which yet remains in a state of excellent preservation, 
stern, august, and beautiful, the most appropriate monument of 
*' the havoc and splendor" of ancient Rome. 

Above the Forum is the Palatine Hill, where Romulus built 
the first palace, and where, in subsequent ages, rose the gorgeous 
dwellings of the Caesars. Their mouldering remains are now 
scattered around, mingled with those of temples and theatres, 
and surmounted with the houses of religious recluses. As we 
gaze upon these from the tower of the Capitol, the departing 
rays of the sun tinge their summits with a melancholy splendor, 
while the shadows of evening are beginning to gather over the 
Forum beneath, a symbol of the glory of Rome, beautiful in decay, 
but passing away beneath the eye of the traveller. 

To the left of the Coliseum may be seen the remains of the 
baths of Titus, and the garden of Mecaenas, where, on a tower, 
Nero sang the song of Troy to the burning of Rome. In that 
direction were the dwellings of Horace and Yirgil. Beyond the 
city walls to the right are discovered the tomb of Metella, and 
the church of St. Paul, where, tradition says, the holy man was 
buried in the Ostian way. 

After looking at these objects individually, we take one general 
view of the whole city. Yonder, far beneath us, glides the vener- 
able Tiber, winding through the city ; there, all around, rise the 
ancient hills, crowned with ruins, churches and palaces. On the 
one side are the tower of St. Angelo, and the cupola of St. Peter's, 
glowing in the light of departing day ; on the other, the Coliseum 
and the Forum, slightly shaded with the hues of approaching 
twilight. Beyond the city walls stretches the quiet Campagna, 
and in the distance, marked against the clear sky, are descried 
the Alban hills clothed with woods, the dark Sabine mountains, 
and the lofty summit of Mount Soracte. Words are insufficient 



ROME. 243 

to describe our emotions, the feelings of sublimity, of mystery and 
delight which thrill our minds as we gaze again and again on the 
vast and beautiful scene ! 

What is it that invests a region, in itself so melancholy, with a 
beauty almost supernal ? Is it not the softening influence of Na- 
ture, the radiance of the setting sun, and the power of mental 
association ? But for these it would be overpoweringly mourn- 
ful — nay, even repulsive. For the beauty upon which we are 
gazing, is that of death ! 

" 'Tis Rome, but living Rome no more !" 

But the blessed light of day lingers upon the grim ruins of the 
past ; beautiful trees and rich green foliage, types of hope and 
resurrection, throw pleasant shadows upon the tombs ; and our 
own minds, confiding in the goodness of " the Father of us all," 
are serene and peaceful. And yet were one to ruminate long 
upon these prostrate fanes and palaces, his heart would irresisti- 
bly " grow to mournful things," and he would retire from them a 
sadder, if not a wiser man. 

. "For Italy has not a breeze 
But comes on melancholy wings; 

And even her majestic trees 
Stand ghost-like in the Csesar's home, 

As if their conscious roots were set 
In the old graves of giant Rome, 

And drew their sap all kingly yet ! 
And every stone your feet beneath 

Is broken from some mighty thought, 
And sculptures in the dust still breathe 

The fires with which their lines were wrought. 
And sundered arch and plundered tomb 
Still thunder back the echo — Rome 1" — Willu, 



244 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Next to the ruins and memories of the ancient city, Rome de- 
rives its principal interest, as a subject of study, from its sacred 
or ecclesiastical character. It is the seat of the Papal court, the 
centre and focus of Catholic Christendom. Here then, if any- 
where, the Roman church must be seen in its perfection. The 
government and police, as well as religion and morals, are under the 
control of ecclesiastics ; so that the city is pervaded from its heart 
to its extremities with the spirit and energy of Catholicism. Indeed, 
it may be said that the whole is a church, a temple of religion, a 
sacred shrine in which is deposited the very soul of the papacy. Of 
this church all the citizens are members ; every one must go to 
confession ; every one, some time or other, must partake of the 
sacrament, or sacrifice of the mass ; every one must do homage 
to the Pope and the priesthood, must die in the faith, and be bu- 
ried in holy ground. Unless excommunicated by the solemn ban 
of the church, each citizen of Rome is a child of the papacy, and 
a member of the " Holy Catholic, Apostolic Church.'' Many in- 
deed are not particularly strict, at least on ordinary occasions, in 
the observance of the innumerable rites and ceremonies enjoined 
by their superiors. Others again are infidels and scoffers, but 
privately, for fear of consequences. Others hate the priests, and 
especially the monks, with a perfect hatred, and make no great 
secret of it either. Many would rejoice to see the whole system 
of ecclesiastical despotism abolished forever. The great mass of 
the people, and especially the more wealthy and intelligent 
classes, seldom if ever go to church, except on high festival occa- 
sions, and even then take only a partial or a political interest in 
the services. 

We might, on a Sunday, go through all the churches in Rome; 
and not find more than four or five thousand worshippers, from 
among the populace, though these churches are very numerous, 
and some of them capable of containing from ten to twenty thou- 



ROME. 245 

sand persons. The majority in all would be found to be females 
and poor people/''^ We have said that all must confess ; but how 
or where they do so, it is impossible to say ; for only the poorer 
classes confess at church. The Sabbath is very much of a holi- 
day; in the secular sense of the term, and the greater portion of 
the day is spent in visiting, rambhng, and other recreations. We 
are bound, however, to regard the majority of the inhabitants as 
devout CathoHcs, for they are so held by their ecclesiastical su- 
periors, and form a part of the sacred city. Duly baptized and 
confirmed, they live and die in the faith of their fathers. If it 
is inquired whether they are truly religious, that is another ques- 
tion, which even Pope Pius the Ninth, or Father Ventura, might 
hesitate to answer. They fast and pray during Lent, go to church 
and crucify the flesh. But they are dehghted when they get 
through it. They precede it with the carnival, and follow it with 
dancing and revelry ! 

Pass around among the convents and churches, amounting in 
all to four or five hundred, perhaps more, you find in nearly all 
the greatest magnificence. Here are innumerable altars and 
sacred shrines, blazing with gems and gold, consecrated to all the 
saints in the calendar, to the Virgin Mother, to the twelve Apostles, 
and to the Holy Trinity ; and before which men of all nations and 
languages may bend, addressing their prayers indiscriminately to 
saint or angel, to the blessed Virgin, or to God himself. Here 
also are innumerable priests and confessors, an infinite variety of 
the most rare and precious relics — bones, arms, legs and skulls, 
fingers and nails, amulets and charms, rosaries and medals, con- 
secrated by popes of blessed memory, or other holy men, living 
and dead. Here also are collected, in the Vatican and in the 
churches, the most perfect specimens of painting and statuary, 

* It is estimated that there are nearly 300 churches in Rome. 



246 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



intended more or less for the ornament and service of religion ; 
images of all forms and ages, apostolic and modern ; images of 
men and angels, of saints and martyrs, of Christ and God, in 
wood and stone, in oil-painting and fresco, some august and 
beautiful, others grotesque and striking, and all venerable and 
attractive to a devout Catholic. Here is the Basilica of St. 
Peter's, the most magnificent church in the world, the work of 
Michael Angelo, with its glorious cupola, four hundred and fifty- 
feet from the ground, and the whole interior so vast, so beautiful, 
so harmonious that it has been likened to " a ceaseless, changeless 
melody ;" here, in this august temple, which is the wonder of 
every traveller, you see *^ the veritable tomb of St. Peter." forming a 
small subterranean chapel in the centre of the cathedral, with a 
hundred lamps burning around it, by night and day, and sur- 
mounted by the bronze canC/)y of Bernini, richly adorned and sup- 
ported by four ornate pillars, a hundred and twenty feet in height, 
the tombs of popes and princes, with all forms of pagan and 
Christian beauty, some of them almost nude, guarding the pre- 
cious dust of kings and priests ; on all sides altars, ornamented 
with gorgeous paintings and sculpture, gold, silver and precious 
stones ; and above all the bronze statue of Jupiter Capitolinus, the 
Apostle Peter, we mean ; for the old statue of the heathen god, 
found in the Capitol, has been lustrated by the popes, and placed 
here, with a glory around his head, for the adoration of the faithful , 
his sacred toes worn and polished by the rubbings and kissings of 
innumerable pilgrims. Whatever this statue maybe on the score 
of religion, it is certainly an incongruity on the score of taste. It 
is only about as large as life, while everything around it is colos- 
sal ; the infant cherubs by the vases which contain the holy water, 
near the principal entrance, are of giant size, while the pen in the 
hand of St. Maik, above the frieze of the cupola, is six feet in 
length. Nevertheless it is the genius of the 'place, the great ob- 



ROME. 247 

ject of love and reverence to the devout Catholic. This church is 
dedicated not to the glory of the Supreme Being, but to the glory 
of Peter, ''in honorem principis apostolorum,"^ 

St. Peter's may be regarded as a symbol of the Roman Catho- 
lic faith, vast, venerable and imposing, but enshrining many 
heathen forms and superstitions. Relics of the past mingle with 
embellishments of the present; pagan images with Christian 
rites. '' The general expression of the place,'' says Madame de 
Stael, " perfectly typifies a mixture of obscure dogmas and sump- 
tuous ceremonies ; a mine of sad ideas, but such as may be sooth- 
ingly applied ; severe doctrines capable of mild interpretation ; 
Christian theology and pagan images ; in fact the most admirable 
union of all the majestic splendors which man can give to his 
worship of the Divinity. "f Is not this only a gentle and poetical 
mode of expressing the fact that the religion of Rome, which 
in another place she says, '' weds the ancient and the modern 
faiths in the mind," is half pagan and idolatrous in its character 
and worship ? The " majestic splendors" may dazzle a human 
eye ; but alas ! they grow pale before the eye of Him from whose 
face the heavens and the earth flee away. 

" Richer by far is the heart's adoration, 
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor 1" 

In Rome also is the Basilica, or church of St. John Lateran, so 
called because it is dedicated to St. John, and built upon the site 
occupied by the Roman Senator Plautius Lateranus ; the mother 
church of Christendom, because it was given especially to the 
Bishop of Rome, and founded by the Emperor Constantine. It 
is in the special diocese of the Pope, is the church in which he 

* Inscription on the front of St. Peter's. 

f Corinne, ou L'ltalie, par Mad.ime De Stael. 



248 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



most frequentl] worships, and, in some respects, takes precedence 
over St. Peter's. It has often been restored and remodelled, is 
famous also for the five general councils held in it, and i^ the scene 
of the coronations of the Popes. Its interior is extravagantly 
rich, though very beautiful, in its decorations. Over the principal 
entrance, you read, in large glaring capitals — " Omnium Urbis et 
Orbis Ecclesiarum Mater et Caput ;" Mother and Hedd of all 
Churches in the City and in the World! This church, of 
course, is rich in wondrous relics. Among these are shown the 
stone mouth of the well of Samaria, two pillars from Pilate's 
house, the table on which our Lord partook of the last supper, 
and a pillar of the temple split by the earthquake at the crucifix- 
ion ! ! In his own chapel the Pope keeps the wood of the true 
cross, the lance which pierced our Saviour's side, and the marvel- 
lous veil of Veronica, celebrated nearly as much as the Holy Coat 
of Treves; for it bears, say the Catholics, the impress of our 
Saviour's face, transferred to it when applied to wipe away the 
sweat which gathered on his brow, as he went to crucifixion! 
These are shown by his Holiness — yes, by his Holiness — whether 
he be Gregory Sixteenth, or the enlightened Pius Ninth, on great 
occasions, such as Holy Week, to the assembled multitudes, who 
tegard them with the same feeling that induced the enthusiastic 
devotees at Treves, when they saw The Sacred Tunic, to exclaim. 
Holy Coat, pray for us ! 

Here also, belonging to the church of St. John Lateran, in a 
separate building, is the Santa Scala, or holy stair, consisting of 
twenty-eight marble steps, brought, as the authorities affirm, 
from Pilate's palace in Jerusalem, and the identical steps up 
which our Saviour walked to Pilate's judgment-hall. The guide 
who shows it will inform you, with a grave face, that, in places, 
they are blued or stained by the sweat of his sacred feet. Peni- 
tents only are permitted to ascend these steps, and on their knees. 



ROME. 249 



They have actually been worn by the attrition of numberless pil- 
grims, so that the Pope has caused them to be covered with 
wood. 

Luther, it will be remembered, when in Rome, wishing to obtain 
an indulgence, promised by the Pope to any who should ascend on 
their knees this celebrated staircase, was slowly climbing the steps 
which they told him had been miraculously transported from 
Jerusalem to Rome. But while he was going through this merito- 
rious service, he thought he heard a voice, like thunder, speak from 
the depths of his heart — " The just shall live hy faith ^ " These 
words," says Merle D'Aubigne, " which already on two occasions 
had struck upon his ear as the voice of an angel of God, resounded 
instantaneously and powerfully within him. He started up in ter- 
ror on the steps up which he had been crawling ; he was horrified 
at himself ; and struck with shame for the degradation to which 
superstition had debased him, he fled from the scene of his folly. 
This powerful text had a mysterious influence on the life of 
Luther. It was a creative word for the Reformer and for the 
Reformation. It was by means of that word that God said: 
* Let there be light, and there was light.' " 

There is a less sacred ascent by which strangers may gain the 
top of the stairs. Here we find a sacred shrine, and a dark look- 
ing image of Christ, fronting the entrance from below. Looking 
into the dimly lighted Sancta Sanctorum, as it is called, we read : 
'' NoN EST IN ToTO Sanctior Orbe Locus ;" There is not in the 
world a holier place. So sacred is it, that females are not permit- 
ted to enter ! In this place are gathered (so say the guides) a 
number of most precious relics — a bottle of the Virgin Mother's 
milk — an exact likeness of Jesus, painted by the Evangelist 
Luke, and a feather from the wing of the angel Gabriel. Luke, 
by the way, seems to have been the great painter of the early 
churph. Rome possesses other pictures ascribed to him: at 
11* 



250 GENIUS OF ITALY. 

Bologna, a celebrated portrait of the Virgin Mary, surrounded by 
filagree work, is exhibited as the production of his pencil ! One 
has to visit Italy, and especially Rome, to satisfy himself that the 
friar's wondrous catalogue, poured into the ear of the dreaming 
Boccaccio, was not, after all, such an extravagant fiction ! 

" A ray, imprimis, of the star that shone 
To the wise men, a phial full of sounds, 
The musical chimes of the great bells that hung 
In Solomons temple, and though last not least, 
A feather from the angel Gabriel's wing, 
Dropt in the Yirgin's chamber." 

In the church of Santa Maria Maggiore, or St. Mary the 
Greater, the grand object of Papal adoration is the cradle of 
the infant Jesus, which is made the occasion of a solemn re- 
ligious service on Christmas eve. But the most popular idol in 
Rome is the Santissimo Bambino — the most Holy Baby ; a miracu- 
lous wooden image in the little church which goes by the name 
of Ara Coeh. Some say that it fell from heaven, like the image 
of Jupiter, or the sacred stone of Mecca. But others, better 
informed, affirm that it was carved by a Franciscan monk in 
Jerusalem, from wood cut on the Mount of Olives, as a repre- 
sentation of the infant Saviour ! Having no paint to color the 
image, and St. Luke not being at hand, he had recourse to prayer, 
in which he spent the whole night, and in the morning found that 
the little image had miraculously become the color of flesh ! This 
image is exhibited, for adoration, in apresipio (case or closet) pre- 
pared for it in the convent of the Ara Coeli, from the feast of the 
Nativity to that of the Epiphany. It is regarded as a sovereign 
preservative against all dangers of childbirth ; and, indeed, is pe- 
culiarly useful in all cases of disease. It has been stated, on 
good authority, that the Bambino receives more and better fees 
than all the medical men of Rome. A stage-coach, as fine as 



HOME. 251 

that of a cardinaFs , is kept for its transportation from patient to 
patient. It is ordinarily accompanied, in its visits, by some 
priests in full canonicals. Thus attended, the Bambino is con- 
veyed through the streets at a slow and stately rate, a rapid mo- 
tion being regarded as inconsistent with the dignity of the image. 
When it passes, every head is uncovered and every knee bent. 
Other images may pass, and some heads are bared ; the Pope 
himself may pass and receive only a salutation ; nay, the conse- 
crated Host, the very body and blood of Christ, may go by, and 
some may kneel, while others take off their hats ; but if the Bam- 
bino passes, every one is uncovered or prostrate on the ground, 
whatever be the state of the streets. 

, But the crowning glory of the Bambino occurs on the festival 
of the Epiphany, when it is brought to the Capitol, or some such 
place, and after a crash of cannon and martial music, is raised by 
the hands of some distinguished priest, and the vast multitude fall 
prostrate in adoration before it, as if it were filled with all the 
fullness of the Godhead ! 

In this sacred city of Rome resides the Pope, the apex of the 
Catholic cone, the head of the Church, the vicar of God, the true 
successor of St. Peter, who carries the sword of a kingdom on 
earth, and the keys of a kingdom in heaven, the representative of 
the Son of God, and the fountain of all gracious influences to his 
militant flock, the embodiment therefore of all humility and meek- 
ness, of all holiness and peace ! You may see him, on some 
grand holiday, riding in a magnificent coach, which cost some 
twelve or fifteen thousand dollars, drawn by six superb black horses, 
attended by some four or half a dozen lacqueys with appropriate 
costumes. He himself is dressed in gorgeous robes of silk, with 
a crown or tiara of gold upon his head, and in his hand, or that 
of a high officer who precedes him, a staff or crosier of gems and 
gold. 



262 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Or you may see him about Christmas, or Corpus Domini, as 
they call it, borne into St. Peter's Church on the. shoulders of 
men, seated in his chair of state, with his eyes closed, and making 
continually, as he passes along, the sign of the cross with the two 
forefingers of his right hand. Two pole-bearers, with splendid 
fans of ostrich feathers fixed upon the tops of their poles, pre- 
cede him with a solemn and reverent air. Behind him are the 
cardinals, in red stockings, and long, flowing robes of scarlet silk 
cov^ered with surplices of the richest lace ; bishops in purple robes, 
and their attendants in all the colors of the rainbow ; nobles and 
guards, soldiers and priests, with swords and spears, true crosses, 
images of saints, and other emblems ; a motley group of monks, 
grey, white and black ; and, among other strange devices, eight 
huge tents, supported by men, emblematical of the eight basili- 
cas, or most eminent churches of Rome ! 

At last the Pope is seated in state under the grand altar, and 
after various services the Host is elevated, bells toll, cannons roar, 
and the vast multitude are prostrate on the floor. If you have 
time and patience to remain two or three hours, you will see all 
sorts of changes, manoeuvres and genuflections, the forty cardinals 
swimming around with their huge trains, proceeding with the 
utmost gravity, in single file, to kiss the Pope's hand, and some 
forty or fifty bishops and other clergy following them to kiss the 
cross upon his slipper, and many others, not admitted to this 
high honor, kneeling at a respectful distance, waiting for his bene- 
diction. During this time your head will almost reel with the 
crossings and counter-crossings, the kneelings and bendings, the 
covering and uncovering of heads, the lifting and opening of 
robes, the pulling off or putting on of vestments, the readings 
from different books, .all in Latin, the long and monotonous chant- 
ings, the embracings of cardinals, the runrings to and fro of the 
assistants, altar boys and others, and the wavings of censers 



ROME. - 263 

with burning incense, no^v to God, now to the Pope, now to the 
sacred books and vestments, now to St. Peter, and now to the 
Holy Virgin and the twelve apostles. " What strange idea of the 
Deity," says Mathews, describing a similar service in the private 
chapel of the Pope, on Monte Cavallo, " must have first sug- 
gested this homage of postures and prostrations ! If a Chinese 
had been present, he might well have concluded that the Pope 
was the god of this strange worship ; and, indeed, I doubt 
whether the thoughts of many on this occasion were elevated 
nearer to heaven than the Popedom." 

Connected with the Papal Church there are in Rome forty car- 
dinals, more or less, quite a number of prelates, archbishops and 
bishops, many of them noblemen by birth, and all of them noble- 
men by station. The cardinals live in palaces, and ride about in 
superb coaches, with well-dressed attendants. Some of them 
are learned men — some of them we hope are pious, according to 
their views. That the most of them are courtiers and politicians, 
ambitious and intriguing, may be doubted anywhere else, but cer- 
tainly not in Rome. But let that pass ; such as they are, they 
form a conclave for the government of the Roman church, and 
give law to Papal Christendom. 

In addition to these, there are in Rome from fifteen to sixteen 
hundred secular clergy or priests ; monks from two to three 
thousand ; nuns from fourteen to fifteen hundred ; in all from 
five to six thousand ecclesiastics, besides innumerable clerical 
visitors, professors, students, &c., in a population of a little more 
than a hundred and fifty thousand. 

Looking at the ecclesiastical machinery alone, and admitting its 
high pretensions to divine authority, one would conclude that 
Rome must be the holiest place on earth ! Well then, is it such ? 
Let its swarming beggars, its poverty-stricken populace, its un- 
educated fliildren, its secret infidelity, its boundless superstition, 



254 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



its covert treason, its gloomy discontent, its deep licentiousness, 
and, except for the form, its heartless irreligion, answer the ques- 
tion. The Christianity of Rome may have some features of truth 
and beauty, but it is secularized, say rather paganized, by super- 
stition. The Pope represents the old Pontifex Maximus ; the 
churches, with their innumerable altars sacrifices and incense re- 
produce, or at least resemble, the temples of pagan worship ; the 
nuns, with their vows of celibacy, the old vestal virgins ; the 
sprinkling of holy water, the lustration of the Roman priests ; 
and St. Peter, adored by the devout, the Jupiter of the Capitol. 
These, it may be said, are merely forms ; to which, we simply sug- 
gest, that forms are the symbols and expressions of thought ; and 
if this be Christianity, it is Christianity mingled and debased with 
an element of idolatry. 

But enough of this. To refresh ourselves, let us take a turn 
towards the Vatican, and some other parts of Rome, where we 
may be free from noise and bustle. Our time, however, will not 
admit of our giving more than a passing glance at this immense 
building, or rather series of buildings, dedicated partly to eccle- 
siastical and political, and partly to artistic and literary uses ; with 
its wilderness of saloons, corridors and chambers, where " beauty 
in everlasting repose is dreiiming of herself;" the sacristy of St. 
Peter's, and the Sistine Cbcipel, made famous by Michael Angelo's 
fresco of the Last Judgment ; the Capitol with its galleries of paint- 
ings and statuary, and many other buildings and places of inte- 
rest. Escaping from modern Rome, we pass along the edge of the 
Capitoline hill, into the deep and solemn quiet of those beautiful but 
melancholy ruias beyond, among which the sombre oHve, the deep 
green ilex and the gadding vine cast pleasant shadows. Why, it 
is as still here as if we were in the country ! Not a human being 
is seen. Not a sound is heard, except the hollow murmur of the 
neighboring city, or the mellow tones of the vesper belte at a dis- 



ROME. 255 

tance. Let us take a turn towards the Coliseum ; we may find 
some life there. We enter the huge but majestic structure. A few 
solitary monks are offering th^ir devotions before the tombs of 
the martyrs ; for even the Coliseum is a sort of church. Altars 
here and there around the walls, invite the homage of the faith- 
ful. How mournfully, but sweetly, floats their dirge-like chant 
through the still air of the time-worn structure ! What a change 
from the time when, in the presence of myriads bending from the 
vast galleries above, the mighty roar of the Numidian lion startled 
the echoes of the amphitheatre, and paled the cheek of the 
patient Christian, placed there to encounter the famishing mon- 
ster ! 

But let us return to the city. Going round by the other side 
of the Coliseum, in the direction of Monte Cavallo, we shall find 
a nearer road to the Corso, our home for the night. We are now 
m the dimly lighted streets of modern Rome. It is the time of 
vespers. Yonder is a church, the Capella della Humiltay the 
Chapel of Humility y as it is styled, in which some service is per- 
forming. The blaze of light issuing from the windows near the 
grand altar, shows it to be one of some consequence. A cardinal, 
after alighting from his purple carriage, with four black horses, 
and outriders, has just entered the building. Behind him are 
several handsomely dressed ladies, who turn to the door on the 
left, and lose themselves in the crowd. Let us enter. But in- 
stead of a plain and humble edifice, as we, in our simplicity sup- 
posed the Chapel of Humility must be, this is absolutely glitter- 
ing with splendor and show. Quite a number of people are here, 
some standing, and others, especially females, kneeling. One, in 
particular, attracts our attention. Tall and gorgeously dressed, a 
lady, leaning upon the arm of a genteel-looking young man, glides 
into the principal aisle, kneels a few moments, crosses herself 
once or twice, and then, attended by the same gentleman, hastily 



256 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



leaves, as if anxious to meet some important engagement at the 
theatre, opera, or some other place. Before the altar, covered 
with a blaze of wax lights, and blushing with gems and gold, 
kneel two ecclesiastics in gorgeous habiliments. Soon after they 
rise, and, bowing to the altar, pass to one side ; when a third en- 
ters the rostrum or pulpit, and gives utterance to an extravagant 
eulogy on the Virgin Mother, whom he styles the Mother of God, 
the Queen of Heaven, the centre of hearts, the beauty and glory 
of the universe ; exhorting all to cling to her, for aid and solace, 
and adore her as the unstained Virgin, the all-prevalent Media- 
trix with Christ and God ! He tnust be one of the preaching ab- 
bes or friars, who at certain seasons of the year, particularly during 
Lent, make the churches of Italy resound with their impassioned 
eloquence. At the close, an earnest and solemn prayer is offered 
to the Holy Virgin, as if she were omniscient and divine. Incense 
is offered before the grand altar, and a priestly benediction pro- 
nounced upon the people. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Pope Pius Ninth — The strongest and weakest of the Popes — Contrasts- 
Pope Hildebrand and Pope Pius — Flight from Rome — Pontificate of Gre- 
gory Sixteenth — Pontificate of Pius Ninth — Changes — Revolution — Real 
position of Pius Ninth — Prospects of Italy. 

We have dwelt long enough upon mere externals, though these are 
sufficiently significant and worthy of study. But we must look 
a little more into the interior life of Rome, of which these are the 
expressive symbols, ascertain its political condition, and make 
acquaintance with its distinguished men, especially with Pius 
Ninth, who thus far has been one of the strongest and yet one of 
the weakest of the popes. Indeed, his strength has constituted 
his weakness ! At the commencement of the pontificate, he seemed 
to understand the age, and discovered a noble desire to promote 
political reform and amelioration ; there has lain his strength. 
This has given him what little hold he possesses on the affections 
of the people. This has secured his popularity, such as it is, 
both at home and abroad. But change and reform after all have 
proved his greatest weakness. These already have shorn him of 
half his power, and, if permanently successful, will snatch from 
him his entire temporal sovereignty. Indeed, it is virtually gone 
now ! Subjected to the caprice of the giddy populace, tossed 
upon the topmost wave of revolution, which he can neither con- 
trol nor resist, he has been driven further than he dreamed. The 
wave, gathering fury by the wind of popular violence, rushes on 



258 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



in spite of his protestations, and whither it will finally dash him, 
who can tell ? 

The support of Austria, the most powerful Catholic kingdom, ex- 
cept France, on the continent of Europe, has been lost. At least, it 
cannot be regained, except by the most abject submission, and 
a total wreck of all that has hitherto constituted his glory. Till 
within a short time, the Pope has been personally popular ; yet 
all the while the priesthood, as a body, have been just the re- 
verse. If they are endured in their spiritual, they are detested 
in their secular capacity. Forming one twenty-eighth part of the 
entire population, and constituting, in the persons of the cardinals 
and other high-church dignitaries, the lords temporal as well as 
spiritual of the Roman States, they are regarded by the great 
body of the people as a curse, rather than a blessing. And 
now, Pope Pius the Ninth, by his retrograde and temporizing 
policy, has been ^' cast down from his excellency ;'* and if not 
as a priest, yet as a prince, is receiving the anathemas of the 
Roman populace ! The citizens, indeed, have no idea at present 
of abjuring the Catholic faith ; far from it. That is a thing of 
which they have scarcely tliought, and to which, thus far, they 
have made no practical approach. But the one thing, which 
above all others they desire, is freedom from priestly domina- 
tion. Already have they thrown it off' in part ; everywhere, and 
at all points, the people demand their rights. So long as the 
Pope aided them in this, they extolled him to the skies ; but the 
instant he interposed to prevent its accomplishment, his influence 
as a ruler was lost forever. No one acquainted with Italian af- 
fairs believes that the Pope has been popular simply as a pope. 
No, it was only as a man and a reformer that he possessed any 
hold of their affections. Already they regard him with jealousy 
and aversion ; and have compelled him to acts which he dreaded 
and abjured. 



PIUS NINTH. 259 



Singular and unheard-of spectacle ! A pope in the hands of 
the people — controlled by the popular voice — urged on without 
the power of resistance, in the race of reform and revolution ! 

In the year of our Lord, 10Y6, in the second week of Lent, 
Pope Gregory Seventh, generally styled Pope Hildebrand, who 
claimed universal dominion for the Church, solemnly excommuni- 
cated King Henry, one of the most powerful and spirited monarchs 
of Germany and Italy, who had resisted the papal claims. In the 
presence of Henry's own mother, and of the assembled synod of 
cardinals and bishops. Pope Hildebrand, lifting up his eyes to 
heaven, invoked the holy Peter to hear, and *' Mary, the mother 
of God,'' and the blessed Paul, and all the saints to bear witness, 
" while for the honor and defense of Christ's church, in the name 
of the sacred Trinity, and by the power and authority of Peter, 
he interdicted to King Henry, son of Henry the Emperor, the 
government of the whole realm of Germany and Italy, absolved 
all Christians from their oaths of allegiance to him, and bound 
him with the bond of anathema, that the nations may know and 
acknowledge that thou art Peter, and that upon this rock the Son 
of the living God hath built his church, and that the gates of hell 
shall not prevail against it^ 

Hildebrand, according to the uniform testimony of Catholic 
writers, was one of the greatest and best of the Popes. Pro- 
foundly pious in his way, earnest and devout beyond all his con- 
temporaries, he united the loftiest ambition with the most con- 
summate abihty and spirit of command. He subjugated Chris- 
tendom to his will. Kings trembled at his nod. His sway was 
wider and more magnificent than that of the Caesars. Indeed, 
he came near realizing the grand idea of the Roman Catholic 
Church, the establishment of a universal theocracy, administered 
by the priests of Rome ! On this ground he has been styled the 
Czar Peter of the church, the Jupiter Ecclesiasticus of Europe. 



260 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



In his reign culminated the glory and dominion of the Papal 
power. 

His excommunication of Henry was one of the most daring 
acts of priestly ambitio'n ; so daring, indeed, that it claims our 
admiration, as an act of the sublimest heroism. Resounding 
throughout Italy and Germany, it aroused the fiercest passions, 
the wildest commotions. Resisted everywhere, it yet worked its 
dread purpose. Henry, with all the might and splendor of his 
extensive and powerful rule, at last yielded to its force. Heaven 
and earth conspired against him. His haughty spirit bent itself 
to the dust. 

Humbly, and as a penitent, he came to Canossa, in the Apen- 
nines, where Hildebrand, with Matilda of Tuscany, the friend and 
protector of the Papal See, held his court, to ask forgiveness of 
the haughty pontiff. But, although surrounded by the greatest 
princes of Italy, who owed allegiance to the Emperor, Gregory 
turned, or affected to turn, a deaf ear to his entreaties. His hum- 
blest concessions were spurned, his unbounded acknowledgments 
of the sacerdotal authority over the kings and princes of the earth 
were contemned. 

Day after day, notwithstanding the intercessions of the Prin- 
cess Matilda, Pope Hildebrand held the penitent Henry at a dis- 
tance ; but at last, when all entreaties for reconcilement must 
have given place to indignation and revenge, he consented reluc- 
tantly to offer his priestly pardon *' on the condition that Henry' 
would surrender into his hands the custody of the crown, the 
sceptre, and the other signs of royalty, and acknowledge himself 
imworthy to bear the royal title.'' But this was too much. The 
heart of the sovereign was not yet abject enough to suffer so fla- 
grant a wrong. 

What was spared to the sovereign, was inflicted on the man. 
In the end of January, the streams arrested by ice, and the 



PIUS NINTH. 261 



earth covered with snow, Henry, the descendant of Charlemagne, 
and the sovereign of a mighty empire, clad in a thin, penitential 
garment, and barefooted, dragged himself along the rocky path 
which led to the outer gate of the frowning fortress of Canossa. 
There, an object of wonder, contempt and pity to the assembled 
crowd gazmg with strange and painful curiosity upon the noble 
features and majestic form of the degraded monarch, he stood, 
after passing the first and second gateway, before the third, inex- 
orably closed against him, not only till the dawning of the suc- 
ceeding day, but for three successive days, devoured with shame, 
and faint with hunger and cold. 

Yielding at last, this vicar of the compassionate Redeemer, 
and successor of the humble fisherman of Galilee, at last con- 
ceded an interview to the wretched monarch, who " prostrated 
himself in more than servile deference before the diminutive and 
emaciated old man, from the terrible grace of whose countenance, 
we are told, the eye of every beholder recoiled as the lightning." 
Hunger, cold and nakedness had for the moniient crushed that 
haughty spirit, who wept and cried for mercy, renewing his en- 
treaties, until he had reached the lowest point of human degra- 
dation. Then, but not till then, did the Pope condescend to^ re- 
voke the anathema of the church. 

In the year of our Lord 1848, on the night of the 24th of 
ISTovember, Pope Pius the Ninth, to whom the Italian patriots, 
the whole church Catholic, and most of the liberal nations of 
Europe, and even the United States sang pseans, as the father 
of his country and the regenerator of Italy, compelled by the 
fury of his own subjects, fled from Rome, in a garb most un- 
seemly for an arch-priest of the holy Catholic Church, " becloaked 
and bewhiskered," like the meanest poltroon, and never rested 
till he found refuge under the banner of his well-beloved son. 



262 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Ferdinand of Naples, whose hands yet reeked with the blood of 
murdered freemen ! 

His prime minister, Count Rossi, one of the ablest politicians 
of his time, was assassinated at the foot of the palace steps, with 
^'no'ne so poor to do him reverence," or revenge his death; the 
Pope was bombarded in the palace of the Quirinal ; and his sec- 
retary shot through the head by the cannon of the populace. 
Forsaken not only by his own children, over whom he was called 
to reign as priest and king, but abandoned by most of his cardi- 
nals and church dignitaries, he bade farewell to the tomb of St. 
Peter and the glories of the Vatican, and thus virtually abdi- 
cated the dominion of the Papal States. 

From his retreat at Gaeta he thunders excommunications against 
the rebels, as he calls them ; but so far from being alarmed, they 
treat them with cool contempt ! 

" Haud mutoMs ah illo r How changed from the Pope of the 
eleventh century, who set his foot upon kings, and swayed his 
double sceptre over the nations ! Well may we exclaim : " How 
art thou fallen, Lucifer, son of the morning !'* 

But Pope Pius the Ninth is an honest man — is he not ? Pro- 
bably he is. A good man ? We hope so. A man of lofty views 
and generous impulses ? They say so. He loves his people, 
and has done them service ? We have no reason to doubt it. 
He gave them a constitution, such as it was, and established him- 
self in their heart of hearts ? Yes, undoubtedly ; but what of all 
that now ? You say he is the strongest ; and we reply he is the 
weakest of all the popes. He attempted a reform, but it turned out 
a revolution. Peace was his aim, war is the result. He dreamed 
of a theocracy, at least in Italy, but he has lost his crown. A 
noble, kindly man, they say ; shrewd withal, well versed in politics, 
and the ways of the world, inclined to be generous, and willing to 
introduce reforms, not into the church, for that is infallible like 



PIU.S NJNTH. 263 



himself, but into the state. Good, very good, so far as it goes; 
but the question is, How far can it go, without inflicting upon the 
Papal church a fatal wound ? 

Rome papal is weak — has been growing weaker and weaker 
for ages. Active at the extremities, it is dead at the heart. Her 
power has departed. Nothing of mystery or of dread, as in the 
Middle Ages, attaches to her name. She no longer rules the 
world ; no, not even Italy. Her whole system of political and 
ecclesiastical dominion has become effete ; one powerful stroke 
from without or from within will dash it to pieces. The Pope, 
the symbol and centre of Catholic power, no longer rules. He 
cannot even control his own people. *' Othello's occupation's 
gone !" A wise man, and a worthy priest, they say ; but a sacerdo- 
tal king, never ! The glory has departed ; Pope Pius the Ninth, 
with all his goodness and talent, is a mere plaything in the hands 
of the people. It is the image of Jupiter, but not Jupiter him- 
self. At all events it is not Jupiter Tonans ! 

But to understand the real position of things at Rome, we must 
go back a little, and give some account not only of Pius Ninth, 
but of his predecessor, Gregory Sixteenth. 

In the year 1831, the Papal conclave, after a confinement of 
fifty-six days, during which time they had balloted and counter- 
balloted for a worthy successor of St. Peter, at last, by the voice 
of the Cardinal Dean, announced an election in the following 
manner : " Magnum vobis annuncio gaudium. Habemus Pa- 
pam, Dominum Cardinalem Capellari qui sibi nomen assumpsit 
Gregorium XVI!" Never was a more unfortunate choice, though 
the result of such a long succession of ballotings, and the pres- 
ence, as claimed by the conclave, of an infallible Spirit ! Cardi- 
nal Capellari, a native of Belluno, born a Venetian, and an 
Austrian subject, had led the life of a recluse. In consequence 
of some distinction as a theologian, and his success in a negotia- 



264 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



tion on behalf of tlii Papal court, he had been raised to the dig- 
nity of cardinal; but he possessed no force of character, no 
knowledge of affairs. A mere monk, advanced in life, feeble and 
timid, he was utterly incapable of discharging the duties of the 
pontificate, at a time, especially, of great political excitement and 
financial depression. Narrow and bigoted also, in his religious 
views, he dreaded liberty and detested science as the greatest of 
all evils. In his encyclical letter of the year 1832, he describes lib- 
erty of conscience as *' that most pestilent error,'' and denounces the 
liberty of the press, as '* that worst and never enough to be execrat- 
ed and detestable evil." His whole pontificate consisted of a series 
of mistakes. The evils under which the Papal States groaned at his 
acccc;bion were aggravated ; justice was badly administered ; the 
people were oppressed ; science and freedom were proscribed. 
The dungeons were filled with state prisoners, and thousands of 
the noblest citizens were driven into foreign exile. Averse to 
business and timid to excess, with low and carnal appetites, and 
habits of indolence, he was preserved from deposition only by 
the strong arm of the Swiss guards and Austrian bayonets. In 
a word, he was thoroughly detested by his people, and contemned 
by foreign nations. On this account his death was hailed with 
secret rejoicings. When he was crowned, he distributed copper 
coins to the populace, saying : "Silver and gold have I none, 
but such as I have give I unto thee." At his death he left 
money and personal property to the amount of two millions of 
dollars to his nephews and nieces ; for of course none of the Popes 
have any direct heirs. He was in the habit of receiving from the 
French, and other governments, large presents of champagne and 
other wines, when they wanted any favors from him ; and his 
cellar, after his death, contained, it is said, twelve thousand bot- 
tles of choice wines, since sold by the order of his more a^bstemi- 
ous successor. This circumstance was made the subject of the 



GREGORY XVI. 265 



following pasquinade in Rome at the time of Gregory's death. 
It represents the deceased knocking for admittance at the gate of 
Paradise. 

" Who wishes to enter ?" asks St. Peter. 

" Gregory, your successor at Rome.'* 

"But," repUes St. Peter, ** Gregory the Great died and came 
here a long time ago. Who are you, that have taken his name ?" 

'' Why, they called me at Rome Gregory Bevone, (Gregory 
the Tippler!") 

'' Oh, I have heard of you ; come in." 

This shows the spirit of the Roman populace, and their estimate 
of Gregory Sixteenth. But the following, which appeared at the 
same time, is still more expressive, and withal of keener wit. 

St. Peter and Gregory are represented as going to Paradise. 
The journey being hard and tedious for an aged man, he com- 
plains to St. Peter thus : 

'* How is it, St. Peter, that our journey is so long ? I did not 
know that Paradise v/as so far from the Vatican^ 

St. Peter replies, '' If you had allowed the construction of rail- 
ways and steamers in your states, we should have arrived long 
ago ; but now you must stop for a while in purgatory." 

After remaining some months in purgatory, where (as the story 
goes) he met his friend, Daniel O'Connell ! Gregory set out with 
St. Peter again on his eternal journey. Coming in view of Para- 
dise, the Pope asks St. Peter, '^ why the angels and his last prede- 
cessors in the papal chair did not come out to meet him ?" 

" Dear Gregory," replies St. Peter, '' as for the Popes there 
are few of them in heaven, and the news of your death has not 
reached there ; as it would have done had you estabhshed tele- 
graphs, and granted i\iQ freedom of the press T 

When the saint and the Pope arrive at the gates of Paradise, 
St. Peter asks Gregory for his key, which after some time the 
12 



266 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Pope finds and hands to him, but it proves to be the Jcey of his 
wine-cellar. 

Presently St. Peter is admitted within the gates, but Gregory 
somehow is lost in the fog. 

If these pasquinades fail to give an idea of the wretched odor 
in which Pope Gregory Sixteenth was held at Rome, a single 
quotation from the Marquis Azeglio, a Piedmontese nobleman, of 
fine talents and liberal views, who has written several works on 
Italy, and longs for the regeneration of his country, will put this 
matter in a clearer light. Addressing the Pope, in 1845, he 
says : '' Of the risings of Romagna, of those slaughters, those 
exiles, of the tears of so many unhappy persons, you will have to 
render an account to God — you, their governor, and not your 
wretched subjects, trodden under your feet. Their blood will be 
rained down on your head ; their sorrows, their tears, will be 
judged of by that • tribunal before which there come neither 
crowns nor sceptres nor tiaras — things which have mouldered in 
the grave — but where only is presented the naked human soul, 
with no safeguard against the sword of eternal justice, but the 
shield of its own innocence ; where your deeds will be weighed 
in those incorruptible scales, in which the least of injuries done to 
the least of men, weighs heavier than all the thrones and all the 
sceptres of the universe.'"^ 

When the funeral obsequies of the deceased Pope were com- 
pleted, the cardinals entered into solemn conclave for the election 
of a new Pope. The greatest excitement prevailed in Rome. 
Threatening handbills were posted upon the walls. A strong 
commotion pervaded the provinces. Bands of young men ex- 



* Degli Ultimi Casi di Romagna. In connection with the Marquis Aze- 
glio may be mentioned the name of Count Balbo, author of an elegant work 
entitled " I Speranze delFItalia" — The Hopes of Italy. 



PIUS NINTH. 261 



claimed, '' We wish for no Pope I No Pope !" In fact, the 
people were ready for insurrection, unless some one should be 
elected who might be satisfactory to their wishes. What then was 
their astonishment, when after a session of some two or three days, 
it was announced from the Quirinal that Mastai Ferreti, Bishop of 
Imola, one of the youngest and most liberal of the cardinals, was 
chosen Pope, and that he had assumed the propitious name of 
Pius Ninth ! Descended from a noble and popular family, with a 
reputation for liberal views and charitable dispositions, his elec- 
tion was hailed with the highest demonstrations of joy. Hope 
had already sprung up in the hearts of the people. They re- 
joiced in the prospect of some amelioration of their sad condition. 
Rome was illuminated, and the name of Pius the Ninth was 
hailed with universal vivas !^ 

At his election, Pius IX. was 54 years of age, and little known 
beyond his small diocese of Imola, with no reputation for politi- 
cal sagacity, talent or learning. He was supposed to be amiable 
and patriotic, a true Italian, of enhghtened and liberal views. The 
circumstances under which he was elected pledged him to a line 
of policy the reverse of that of his predecessors. His first act 
was a political amnesty, a common thing at the accession of a 
pope ; indeed a measure of absolute necessity under the circum- 
stances, yet one in this instance of peculiar significance, for by 
this means no less than six thousand prisoners obtained their 
freedom ! It was necessary we say, but was it wise ? Indeed it 
was far too indiscriminate to be wise. But it could not be helped, 
and it was hailed with universal joy. 

A constitution, too, was promised the people. A year elapsed, 
during which murmurs respecting its delay might everywhere be 
heard ; it was finally granted ; but under singular restrictions. 

* Pius IX. was elected 16th June, 1846. 



268 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



The pope was yet to be supreme in everything, and the people 
must not cherish extravagant expectations. The freedom of the 
press was also conceded, but with a censorship to restrict it ! 
Nay, more, a board of common-school education was appointed, 
and something done for the instruction of the people. Civihties 
and compliments passed between the pontiff and his subjects: 
fine promises on the one hand ; vivas and illuminations on the other. 
The people grew bolder and bolder, insisted that the government 
and finances should be administered not by priests but by laymen, 
and that the Pope should declare war against Austria, and unite 
with Lombardy and Piedmont in driving the hated Teutons be- 
yond the Alps. 

It was then that Pius Ninth began to hesitate and draw back. 
He had gone too far. He was a minister of peace ; the roar of 
battle sounded in his ears, and he trembled. Above all he could 
not fight against his own children. The papacy itself was en- 
dangered. He must rather disappoint his subjects than hazard 
the unity and perpetuity of the Church. Then the people were 
enraged — the government resigned, and the mob talked in no 
gentle terms of the abdication of the Pope. He held out long 
and courageously, but at last was compelled to yield. Then 
again Pius enjoyed a brief respite, and received the congratula- 
tions of the people. But they soon discovered that he was not 
altogether sincere in the matter, and again their clamors and 
curses resounded among the hills of Rome. 

One of the most significant events which occurred previous to 
the late revolution, was the banishment of the Jesuits. It is well 
known that at the commencement of his pontificate, Pius Ninth 
showed great regard for the Jesuits. Enthusiastic accounts 
reached us of the solemn and fervid manner in which he assisted 
at high mass, in their principal church at Rome, and of his going 
into their monasteries to assure them of his confidence and afFec- 



PIUS NINTH. 269 



tion. He declared, with his predecessor Pius Seventh, that these 
monks were '' the strong and experienced oarsmen who kept from 
shipwreck the bark of St. Peter." Indeed the reputation of the 
Pope was thrown as a shield over the Jesuits, and succeeded, for a 
time, in protecting them from popular fury. In this respect Pius 
was right ; for after all that has been said of them, the Jesuits 
are the best and strongest defenders of the Papal Church. Of 
all the monks, they are the most vigorous and devoted. It is 
only where they are entertained, that the Church possesses much 
stability and power. But of all places, there is none in which 
they are held in more complete abhorrence than in the capital 
of Catholic Christendom, the seat and centre of their influence. 
The citizens said to one another : " These monks are worthless ; 
we abhor them, but we will not drive them away, because it will 
give pain to our excellent Pius Ninth." Astonishing forbearance ! 
— but how long will it last ? 

When the other States of Italy, Sardinia, Tuscany, and even 
Naples, had expelled the disciples of Loyola, the citizens of Rome 
could not resist the impulse, and began to make demonstrations 
against them. Every night tumults occurred around the convents, 
threats were made of setting fire to the buildings, if they did not 
hasten to quit Rome, and the fierce cry of Down with the Jesuits ! 
Down with the Jesuits ! resounded through the streets. 

Pius Ninth was shocked, and made the greatest efibrts to pa- 
cify the people. He issued proclamations from the Vatican, in 
which he employed alternately the language of authority and 
entreaty. He begged, he entreated his subjects, in the name of 
the holy Catholic religion, not to attack the Jesuits, declaring that 
they were very respectable, very pious men, ** men after his own 
heart," who labored faithfully for the glory of Cod and the good 
of the Church. He added, that if gentle means failed, he was re- 
solved to punish the rioters that if the demonstrations against the 



270 GENIU.^ OF ITALY. 



Jesuits were continued, the authors of such crimes should be con- 
demned by the courts. 

In a few days the pontifical proclamations succeeded in quiet- 
ing the public irritation ; but it was only a lull in a tempest. The 
anti-jesuit movement broke out afresh, and with redoubled fury. 
The civic guard who protected the convents declared they were 
tired of the service. The different circles or clubs of Rome sent 
delegates to the prefect of police, to say that if the Jesuits did 
not immediately leave, the public peace would be seriously en- 
dangered. Scenes of disorder even occurred in the churches. 
The appearance of a Jesuit in the pulpit excited murmurs of dis- 
approbation. Down with the Jesuits ! — rang under the shadow of 
St. Peter's, and the arches of the Vatican. 

The popular current grew too strong even for the Pope, and on 
the 29th of March, 1848, he requested the General of the Order, 
Roothan, to retire with the Jesuits ; and the following day the 
official gazette announced the event in the following significant 
style : *' His Holiness, who has ever looked with favor upon 
these servants of the Church, as unwearied fellow-laborers in the 
vineyard of the Lord, is bitterly grieved at this unhappy event. 
However, considering the growing excitement, and the numerous 
parties which threaten serious trouble, the Pope has been forced 
to look at these dangers. He has therefore made known, to the 
Father- General of the company, his sentiments, as well as the 
concern he feels, on account of the difficulty of the times and the 
prospect of serious disturbance. Upon this announcement, the 
Father- General, after advising with his. councillors, resolved to 
yield to the force of circumstances, fearing lest their presence 
would serve as a pretext to tumult and bloodshed." 

It was not the people, but their rulers, that forced Clement 
Fourteenth, Pope Ganganelli, to banish the Jesuits ; and so they 
soon returned to Rome> and other countries from which they had 



PIUS NINTH. 2Hl 



been driven, stronger and more numerous than ever, thus fulfiUing 
the prediction of Francis Borgia, third general of the order, who 
said three centuries ago : *' We are come hke lambs ; we govern 
like wolves ; the nations will hunt us like dogs ; but we shall re- 
new our youth like the eagles." But in the present instance it 
was the people who demanded their expulsion. They pretended to 
revere the Pope, but they compelled him to obey their will. 

Change upon change, struggle upon struggle ensued. The 
conduct of the Pope was uncertain and vacillating. The people 
lost all reverence, all affection. Italy resounded with complaints 
against poor Pio l^ono, who strengthened himself as best he could. 
Austria must be propitiated ; but how could the Pope do this 
without exasperating his people ? Count Rossi, a politician of 
the Guizot school, a Frenchman, and on that account obnoxious 
to the lovers of Italian nationality, but a man of moderate views 
and stern decision, who had done good service to Italy and the 
cause of the Papal church, was raised to the office of prime 
minister. He pursued his course calmly and decisively, set the 
people at defiance, and kept the liberals at bay. 

But instantly, and when least expected, the assassin's poignard 
is at the throat of Count Bossi, and the people approve the act ! 
The tocsin of revolution resounds through the city. The roar of 
cannon is heard before the Quirinal. Pope Pius flees. A pro- 
visional government is formed. Messengers are sent to the Pope 
to procure his return ; but they are not even permitted to see 
Jiim. At any rate their mission is unsuccessful. Pius Ninth de- 
nounces the provisional government, and excommunicates the 
rebels. The people accept the alternative. A hundred and one 
guns from the Castle of St. Angelo, booming one after another 
over the hills of Rome, announce to the metropolis and the world 
that the dynasty which had reigned over Rome for ten hundred 
and forty-eight years has come to a close. The great bell of the 



272 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Capitol, whicli strikes only at the death of a Pope, peals sol- 
emnly, as if sounding the requiem of Papal rule. It was exactly 
on the 24th of November (the night of the fatal flight of Pius 
Ninth) that, in the year of our Lord eight hundred, Charlemagne 
appeared in Kome to be crowned on Christmas by the hands of 
Leo Third, and to institute and formally confirm the donation of 
Pepin, by the erection of the Papal sovereignty. 

Rome, of course, is in a wretched condition. Poor and bank- 
rupt, it is even now a prey to contending parties ; and whether 
any permanent independent government can be established, is at 
present quite uncertain. The Pope appeals to France and Aus- 
tria (rare conjunction !) to restore him to the tomb of St. Peter 
and the bosom of his flock ! He has our sincerest pity ; for what 
could he do ? He had gone too far. The interests of the Church 
were clashing with the interests of the State. Triumphant Aus- 
tria, with her foot in the stirrup, threatened an everlasting 
schism in the Church, and not only so, but was preparing to dash 
into the very heart of Rome, and force his Holiness and the Ro- 
man States into submission to her purposes. To displease Aus- 
tria was to divide and distract the Church, cut off the right arm 
of its strength, and expose even the temporal power of the Po|}e- 
dom to possible destruction. The liberals demanded national 
unity, opposition to Austria, and independence of all foreign con- 
trol. To gain this, Rome, as well as Tuscany and Sardinia, must 
fight, and fight to the death. The poor Pope was willing to do 
his best for both, anxious to save his temporal and spirituaj 
powers at the same time ; nay, more, ready to make the greatest 
sacrifices ; for we yet believe him to be an honest, though weak 
and vacillating man ; but he could not serve two masters ; he 
must either hate the one or despise the other ; either sacrifice 
the affection of Austria, or the aff'ection of Italy. And as Austria 
happens to be the strongest, he wisely chose, for the sake of the 



PIUS NINTH. 273 



Church, (what else could he do?) to cleave to Austria and aban- 
don Italy. 

That he will be restored somehow to his place in Rome, if not 
as a sovereign, at least as a pope, we certainly anticipate. Wheth- 
er by a reaction or counter-revolution at the Capitol, or by the 
intervention of foreign powers, we cannot tell ; but in a short time 
we expect to see him safely lodged in his palace on Monte Ca- 
vallo, temporizing it may be, with Roman liberals, or denouncing 
against them the vengeance of Heaven ! But the instant this is 
done, he bows his neck to Austria, or some other power, and 
loses all his influence in his native land. It is possible, indeed, 
that he may establish his residence somewhere else, in which case 
his spiritual supremacy, and the consequent unity of the Papal 
church, will be seriously endangered. 

These are significant events, and what will be their issue, may 
be guessed, but not certainly foretold. The dial of the world 
cannot well go back. Reaction and restoration even of old and 
despotic forms of government, will not essentially check the march 
of revolution. It is too late to bring back the dark ages. The 
Rome of yesterday is forgotten. A new Rome is rising in every 
part of the world, a new society, and a new age. The day of 
Pius Ninth has passed forever. He may reign as Pontifex Maxi- 
mus of the Papal church ; but only the shadow of his former 
self, a mere echo of the man who seemed destined to sway a 
double sceptre over the destinies of Italy and of the world. The 
wand of the enchanter is broken, and even his own myrmidons^ 
laugh him to scorn. 

But do these Roman liberals, these Italian patriots, really un- 
derstand the nature and genius of a true and orderly freedom ? 
We think not. They have worn their fetters too long for that. 
They have too little knowledge of the Bible, too little love of 
truth and virtue, to appreciate its high and heavenly nature. But 
12^ 



274 GENIW OP ITALY. 



they possess the undying instinct, the quenchless love of liberty. 
Time and the Gospel are the great teachers ; and, by and by, 
they will understand it, and not only so, but possess it too. The 
song of freedom shall yet ring from the Alps to the Apennines, 
from the green plains of Lombardy to the sunny groves of Naples 
and Sicily. Italy, torn and bleeding, as in years gone by, is des- 
tined, we believe, to a rare and lasting heritage of blessing. But 
no heritage of this kind can be secured by any people, without 
long years — nay, sometimes ages of toil and discipline. It comes 
as the purchase of tears and blood, of agony and prayer. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Gioberti, " The Prophet of Italy" — Theocratic views — Reception in Italy — 
•Effect upon Charles Albert, Marquis Azeglio and others — Their effect on 
Pius iN'inth — Their probable fate — Father Ventura — His character and 
relations to Pius Ninth — His eloquence — Views and influence — Funeral 
Sermon for O'Connell — Problem of Gioberti, Ventura and Pius Ninth — 
Anticipated Fall of the Papacy. 

One of the most powerful and influential writers in Italy at the 
present time is Yicenzo Gioberti, a native of Piedmont, '' a monk 
by profession and a philosopher by choice." His speculations are 
exceedingly popular at Turin, and are said to have exerted a 
great influence over Pius Ninth. Indeed, all Italy has hailed him 
as its prophet and teacher. His shrew^d conjectures, or rather 
extravagant hopes, were for a time partially realized ; his works, 
therefore, have been received as a sort of new political revelation. 
A chaplain at the court of Sardinia, he became obnoxious to the 
Jesuits, and consequently to the government, at that time entirely 
controlled by ''the holy Fathers/' on account of his talents and 
somewhat liberal views. He has written able and elaborate, 
though not popular works, on philosophy ; for his style happens 
to be rather prolix and heavy, and by no means adapted to win 
the public ear. That he has some originality, and a certain air 
of profundity and earnestness, is conceded b}^ those best ac- 
quainted with his writings. Banished from Turin, he went to 
Paris, where he remained some time, in contented poverty, pur- 
suing his speculations, and writing on Italy ; thence he made his 



276 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



way to Brussels, where he published most of his works, in Italian, 
ostensibly for the benefit of the Belgians, but really for that of his 
ovvn countrymen. His first great work that attracted much at- 
tention was the Primato, or the religious, intellectual and politi- 
cal supremacy of Italy, in which he proposes the formation of 
Italian nationality, under the theocratic rule of the Pope, with 
Charles Albert of Sardinia as her secular prince and defender. 
This was written in the time of Pope Gregory Sixteenth,. when 
the views of the author might be deemed entirely chimerical and 
impracticable. It made its way into Italy, and produced there 
an unusual excitement. Everywhere in Sardinia, Tuscany and 
liome, the Primato was read with enthusiasm and dehght. 

Charles Albert, who began to grow weary of Jesuitical rule, 
took up the works of his banished chaplain. They struck a deep 
chord in his ambitious heart. He revoked the decree of proscrip- 
tion, invited Gioberti to his court, with the promise of patronage 
and a pension. Gioberti, at first, declined the honor; he had 
more to say to his countrymen, and he was afraid of the crafty 
monarch. Subsequently, however, he accepted the invitation, 
backed, as it appeared to be, by the unanimous voice of his coun- 
trymen. His return to Sardinia was a triumphal procession. 
Everywhere he was accompanied, on his journey, by crowds, 
shouting. Viva Gioberti ! Viva Gioherti ! He is now understood 
to be at the head of the liberals at the court of Turin, and is ex- 
erting: a controllinsf influence in the Chambers. Whether he will 
mamtain his position in the present peculiar condition of Italian, 
and especially of Sardinian affairs, is a doubtful matter. The 
most singular and startling changes, one way or the other, will 
not much surprise us. 

Gioberti, though favorable to monks in general, has written 
powerfully against the Jesuits ; and we doubt not his appeals have 
nad something to do with their recent banishment from Sardinia 
and Rome. 



GIOBERTT. (^11 



The Primato is a sort of half philosophical, half religious and 
political romance. It is decidedly verbose, but earnest, enthusi- 
astic and hopeful. It appeals strongly to the national vanity ; 
for what nation would not be delighted to have it proved, that 
they were the greatest and most influential people, on the face 
of the earth. The greatness of Italy he deduces, partly from its 
being the source of civilization to Europe, but chiefly from its be- 
ing the centre of the Catholic faith, the only faith, in his view, 
really universal, authoritative and influential. His system is a 
theocracy — God, the source of power — and the priesthood of the 
Roman Catholic church, its dispensers on earth. As to the Ital- 
ian States, they must become united, as a single nation, under the 
supremacy of the Pope, who is to be at the head of the Italian 
league, which is to drive the Austrians from the country, and es- 
tablish Catholic unity and freedom. Great changes must be made, 
but without violence, and under the control of the Pope. Every 
thing must emanate from him as a centre, he being the professor 
of liberalism, and having for his pupils all the princes of Italy. 
He contends that Italy is God^s chosen land ; the Italians, God's 
chosen people ; that the true principle of Italian power is federa- 
tion, and the true centre of that federation the supreme Pontifi"; 
that the Roman States are to Italy, what the site of the temple 
was to the Jewish people ; and Italy to the world, what Pales- 
tine was in the days of the apostles. Thus the Itahans are to 
rally around the standard of St. Peter. Hierocracy is to be es- 
tablished as the basis of all political orders^the priesthood, the 
centre and element of political power. Although he hates the 
Jesuits of Italy, who opposed his views, he presents the Jesuits of 
Paraguay as the beau ideal of a Christian State. *' The priest- 
hood," says he, '' may rule by dictatorship or by arbitration. Its 
absolute autocracy is necessary in an imperfect state of civilization. 
Nothing, therefore, could be more legitimate than the sway exer- 



278 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



cised by the pontiffs in the Middle Ages. In progress of time the 
' civil conscience* of nations supersedes the necessity of his dictato- 
rial supremacy. Then the world learns to obey the ' arbitration' or 
moral influence of the Church. The Pope becomes the organ of 
universal peace and union, the vindicator of the laws of nations. 
The continual state of war and anarchy in Europe arose from its 
rebellion against the paternal primacy. Let the Pope be obeyed, 
and all mankind will be brethren !" 

Gioberti declares himself favorable to a temperate monarchy, 
the establishment of councils of state, a representation without an 
election by the people, and a free press under the control of a 
clerical censorship ! 

As to the details of government, the theocratic or priestly ele- 
ment must prevail. The monks, he claims, are, and must be, 
leaders of pubhc opinion ! Lights of the age, philosophers and 
thinkers, they are to guide society in the ways of truth, holiness 
and peace ! Italy, in this respect, is to be the illuminator of the 
world, the great thinker and philosopher for the nations. *' The 
human mind walks in England, skips and capers in France, plods 
and gropes in Germany, soars in Italy !" So says the Italian 
proverb. Italy, therefore, must take her destined place, as the 
glory of God, and the liglsl of the world ! 

These views, extravagant; as they are, took with the priests 
and hberals of Italy, at least with a class of them. Count Balbo 
and the Marquis A^zeglio adopted them as their own. Charles 
Albert, of Sardinia, made them the polar star of his new political 
creed ; and last, though not least. Pope Pius the ISTinth received 
them with enthusiam, and attempted their realization in his own 
iliustrious person. Gioberti's league was formed ; the Pope put 
himself for a time at the head of the movement, Charles Albert 
attempted to drive the Austrians from the country, and secure 
the government of Upper Italy ; and a considerable majority of 



to 



VENTURA. 279 



the Italian priests and bishops sanctioned the scheme. Is it sur- 
prising that Gioberti should have been hailed as the philosopher 
and prophet of his country, and that Pope Pius the Ninth should 
have placed himself under the guidance of his principles ? For, 
what is to be the result ? The aggrandizement of the papacy, 
the enthronement of priestly power, the Catholic unity and fed- 
eration of all the Italian States. 

But the whole is a dream, and even now is dissolving, like the 
baseless fabric of a vision ! Yet there is something about it gen- 
erous and heart-inspiring ; and we can only hope that some good 
will come out of ** the wreck" which it may leave behind. 

In connection with Gioberti, the name of Father Ventura, the 
distinguished Theatine preacher, and especial favorite of the Pope, 
suggests itself. At the present time, this Abbate is one of the 
most popular men in Italy. As a preacher, he is unrivalled in 
that country. Of a warm southern temperament and glowing 
imagination, he agitates the people like a tribune of ancient Rome. 
In this respect, he strikingly resembles Lacordaire, the celebrated 
Dominican preacher at Paris. Of a dark complexion, well-formed 
and expressive features, lofty forehead and burning eyes, with a 
complete mastery of impassioned and popular eloquence, he takes 
captive the senses and imagination of his hearers. His voice is 
clear and energetic, thrilling and vibrating, like the shrill tones of 
a trumpet ; his gesture vehement and impassioned ; and his lan- 
guage clear, full and fiery, like a torrent of burning lava, from 
the crater of Vesuvius. With something of the energy and en- 
thusiasm of Peter the Hermit, this eloquent monk has thrown 
himself into the grand movement of Italian hberahsm, extols to 
the skies Pope Pius the Ninth, and proclaims the avatar of a new 
Cathohc freedom. In a word, he has adopted the views of Gio- 
berti, and urges the union of papal sovereignty with national re- 
form. " Pius Ninth," he says, in one of his discourses, " has rec- 



280 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



onciled obedience and authority, freedom and order, reason and 
faith, the world and the church." On this ground, he adds, 
*' the Pope has assured to the See of Rome unlimited conquests , 
iineqiialled glory. ''^'^ In another discourse, he describes the hberty 
movement in Italy as analogous to the eventful scenes of the Re- 
formation. '' Then in the sixteenth century," he says, **the scan- 
dal of the church having descended increasingly from ages, had 
accumulated to such an intensity of offense, that mankind felt the 
need of reformation." This the Reformers offered, and they were 
hailed with acclamation. When the Church saw this, she pro 
posed what he styles a true reformation, and, according to him, 
the • Lutheran Reformation ceased to make progress. And now 
he adds, through the mistakes and corruptions of the government, 
(Rome among the rest,) the people feel the need of liberty, and 
he warns the government, *' to grant what otherwise will soon be 
wrenched from their desperate and pitiful clutch !" 

The pohcy of Rome is not to lead, but to follow the age. If 
aristocracy is in the ascendency, then she is aristocratic — if de- 
mocracy, then she is democratic. Whatever happens, she must 
be supreme and all-controlling. These, then, according to 
Father Ventura, must be united ; and Rome Papal will gain 
new triumphs. In this view the following passage is most signifi- 
cant: 

'' The Church which does not disdain, but seeks after, which 
does not despise, but receives and sanctifies everything which has 
force and life, turned towards the barbarian, whose hand had 
done justice to the misery and faults of the Roman empire ; she 
washed his head with a little water, anointed his brow with a little 
oil, and performed the miracle of the Christian monarchy. If then 
one day the successors of the barbarian chiefs suffer themselves to 

* Haw completely falsified by recent events 1 



VENTURA. 281 



be penetrated by the pagan element, essentially despotic, renouncing 
the Christian element, essentially free, because it is wholly charity, 
and will no longer comprehend the doctrine of the religious liberty 
of the people, and of the independence of the Church, which con- 
stituted the security and glory of their ancestors, the Church 
will still know how to pass by them ; she will turn towards de- 
mocracy ; she will baptize that heroine savage ; she will make her 
Christian, as she has already made the barbarian Christian ; she 
will impress upon her brow the seal of her divine consecration, 
and will say to her, reign ! and she shall reign J^ 

Of course. Father Ventura does not relish Protestant democra- 
cy, the fruit of the Reformation, and the glory of England and 
America. That, as yet, is barbarous and unbaptized. Speaking 
of O'Connell, who had made a speech against Protestant claims, 
he utters the following magniloquent nonsense : " E'ever," says 
he, " was placed in a more conspicuous light the shameful origin 
of the * Reformation,' the beastly nature of its author, the disso- 
luteness of its apostles, the blasphemies and contradictions of its 
doctrines, the baseness of its manoeuvres, the hypocrisy of its 
promises, the turpitude of its motives, the iniquity of its spoliation, 
the cruelty of its massacres, the horror of its sacrileges, and the 
mighty misfortunes which it has brought upon the loveliest coun- 
tries of Europe !" Living in Italy, under the shadow of the Vati- 
can, with no enlarged and hberal acquaintance with the real 
workings of Protestantism, Father Ventura has many crude and 
narrow notions, of which the above is one of the worst specimens. 
He forgets, in the heat and furor of his oratory, that while Italy 
is the most wretched of all the kingdoms in Europe, England and 
Scotland, Prussia and Holland, the very centres of Protestantism, 
are the richest and strongest by far. But impassioned, and es- 
pecially Italian orators, are apt to take counsel only of their 
imagination, and give to airy nothings a local habitation and a 



282 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



name. Italy has a great appearance of devotion ; that is to say, 
her churches, processions and ceremonies are numerous and im- 
posing ; but the hfe and energy of true rehgion is extinct. For 
what is that devotion, or religion good for, which does not trans- 
form and elevate the national character, giving it strength, order 
and peace ? It may be a name, an appearance, a form, resplen- 
dent as the stars of heaven, but it is nothing more. An honest, 
plain-spoken man would be apt to call it a magnificent sham. In 
fact, we greatly fear, that much of the religion of Italy is a thing 
simply to be seen, like the hired originals of those Italian pictures 
which are sometimes sent to this country. ''Every American 
artist that comes here," s-ays a correspondent of the I^ew York 
Mirror, " sends home a dozen or two of the beggars, in the char- 
acter of apostles or Virgin Marys. A sturdy old fellow who 
blacks my boots tells me he has been painted twenty-eight times in 
the character of St. Paul, thirteen times as St. Peter — he cannot 
remember how many times as ' Roman Father,' and as ' the Head 
of the Old Man' at least a thousand times. One would think that 
from assuming these characters so often, he would have attained 
to uncommon sanctity, but he is in truth the greatest rogue that 
I have ever seen in Italy. 

'' The rascal prides himself a good deal on being sent so often 
to America, and the other day he told me that he believed there 
was not a gentleman's parlor in my country in which he or one 
of his family was not hung up in a gilt frame. He said to me 
yesterday, ' My son and daughter have just been sent to Ameri- 
ca again, one as 'A Peasant Boy of the Campagna,' and the other 
as ' a Roman Lady.' Having detected him that week in an attempt 
to secrete one of my pocket handkerchiefs — to show his contrition 
he said, he and his daughter (who is quite as great a thief as hei 
father) would sit to one of ray artist countrymen for a holy fami- 
ly, if I would promise not to expose him. 'A precious pair you 



VENTURA. 283 



are, to be sure, for a holy family!' said I. 'Why, slgnor,' said the 
rogue, * my religious exp7'ession is worth two cents an hour more 
than any other man^s in Rome J " 

We must confess, however, that we have a great respect for 
Father Yentura, and it does our hearts good to hear him, in the 
city of Rome^ ring eloquent changes on the words, liberty, freedom, 
and reform ! Something must come out of it, which may yet sur- 
prise the world. His Funeral Oration for Daniel O'Connell, 
dehvered at Rome, June 28th, 1847, lies before us, and certainly 
it is one of the most remarkable productions of the age. It con- 
tains passages of thrilling eloquence, and its great doctrine may be 
stated as the union of freedom and religion, of which the life of 
O'Connell, the champion of the Catholic faith and of Irish eman- 
cipation, is taken as a model. His description of O'Connell is, as 
one might expect, exaggerated, but beautiful and touching ; and 
his appeals to the Roman people to imitate his example, and thus 
advance the cause of freedom and Catholicism, thrilling and pow- 
erful. He greatly admires the peaceful principles of the. great 
Irish agitator, especially his avowed opposition to violent revolu- 
tions, and urges the same principles upon his Italian brethren. 
The refrain of the discourse, as it may be termed, is freedom, uni- 
versal and all-pervading, but freedom with submission to the 
powers that be, freedom especially with submission to the holy 
Cathohc and apostolic church. The following is one of the most 
striking passages, and will illustrate the above remark : 

*' It is true, and I say it with grief, there are yet perhaps 
among you some disciples of the revolutionary philosophy of the 
past century — some foolish pedants who labor to realize in Chris- 
tian Rome the republican theories of pagan Rome, and to apply 
to society the ideas of the college.'^* It is true that there are 

* Republicanism, according to Father Ventui'a, is pagan. 



284 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



some men to wliom, as to the sanguinary men of '93, from whom 
they have descended, the words, liberty of the people, convey the 
dark and terrible thought of destruction, and the horrible senti- 
ment of hatred of monarchy ; but these degenerate citizens, (if 
the name of citizens can be given to men who meditate the ruin 
of their country,) are very few in number. The people, the true 
Roman people, by their spirit of order, of obedience, of love for 
their sovereign, become the admiration of Europe and of the world, 
regard with horror these dark artisans of rebellion, and compel 
them to conceal themselves and their doctrines of disorder and 
blood. The exquisite good- sense of the people will not permit 
them to be caught by their snares or hypocrisy. The people 
comprehend liberty only in connection with order; they do 
not separate the idea of their own well-being from their obe- 
dience and fidelity to their sovereign. This people, so good and 
intelligent, have carried into perfection the doctrine that O'Con- 
nell has made to be esteemed throughout Europe. To the most 
scrupulous obedience to law they have joined the enthusiasm of 
love. They demand, through the means of a kindly agitation, 
as Ireland demanded by means of a legal agitation, the reform 
of abuses, which through the effect of time and the passions, as 
it happens always and everywhere, have altered the nature of 
the ancient Constitution of the States of the Church, in which or- 
der and liberty are so well reconciled. And as it is impossible 
that the language of a people who love him should not be heard 
by a pontiff full of affections for his people, so it is impossi- 
ble that hearts which bear such sincere love towards one another 
should not end by fully understanding one another.^ Rome ! 

* At this part of the dfscourse, the audience, which had scarcely breathed, 
could not contain their emotion. They were checked, however, by the ora- 
tor, who reminded them of the sanctity of the place. 



VENTURA. - 285 



wliat glory do you prepare for yourself if you properly appre- 
ciate your position, if you are not stopped in your career, if you 
are not deceived, if you are not betrayed ! What a fine page 
you will add to your history ! A page in which posterity will 
be astonished to read the conquest you made of a wise and true 
liberty through the means of love alone ! 

" I say of true liberty, for as one description of gold is true 
and another is false, so there is a true and false liberty. Oh ! 
how beautiful is the one ! Oh ! how hideous is the other ! How- 
majestic is the one ! How terrible is the other ! How much the 
one breathes of grace and peace ! How much the other inspires 
fear and horror ! The one has adorned its head with the splendid 
halo of order, the other has covered it with the bloody cap of 
anarchy. The one holds in its hand the olive-branch of peace, 
the other the torch of discord. The one is clothed with the 
white robe of innocence, the other is enveloped in the dark man- 
tle of crime, soiled with blood. The one is the support of thrones, 
the other is their ruin. The one is the glory and happiness of 
the people, the other is its disgrace and scourge. The one is 
vomited from hell, like the poisoned breath of the spirit of dark- 
ness, the other descends from heaven like a sweet incarnation of 
the Spirit of God! Ubi Spiritus Domini ibi Lihertas!^ 

He then proceeds to show that true liberty must proceed from 
the sanctuary ; that the church can alone proclaim political liberty 
in fixing the true and just limits of obedience, the true and just 
rights and duties of the people and of the governing powers. 
He eulogizes in extravagant terms Pope Pius the Ninth, speaking 
of him as the Divine Pope, the beloved and adored Pius — that 
great soul capable of comprehending all the instincts^ all the neces- 
sities of this religious age — that noble heart so desirous to satisfy 

* " Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.*' 



286 ^ GENIUS OF ITALY. 



them ; dwells with rapture on O'ConnelFs devotion to the Virgin 
Mary, that *' queen of heaven," that '^ star of the sea," and 
quotes with exultation his last directions : " My body to Ireland, 
my heart to Rome, my soul to Heaven !" and exhorts his hearers 
to imitate the great Liberator of Ireland, to support the pontifical 
throne, true liberty and the sovereignty of the Church. '* Let us 
be Christian citizens, and citizen Christians ; let us unite with love 
of the people love of the Church, and love of liberty with love 
of religion ; and thus walking in the safe path of the great 
Christian and the great citizen, for whose soul we pray to-day, 
and whose memory we honor, we will be partakers of the eternal 
reward which he will enjoy in heaven ; we will on earth have the 
glory of deserving well of our country and of religion, and 
it will be said of us also — Liberavit gentem suam a perditione, 
et in vita sua corroboravit templum."^ 

The problem then of Gioberti, Ventura and Pius Ninth has 
been to unite the spirit of freedom with the claims of the Papal 
church ; the order, superstition and repose of the Middle Ages 
with the energy, activity and democracy of the nineteenth cen- 
tury. 

But all this has already been stultified by the strange and start- 
ling events which have occurred in Rome, and Pius Ninth, with 
all his good qualities, is an object of contempt and aversion to the 
great body of the Italian liberals. Even in Italy, Montazio, a 
Florentine patriot, writes as follows, and thousands of the people 
sympathize with him. At the close of an article which appeared 
in Florence under the title " The Pope is Dead," he says : '' The 
Prince is no longer possible, the Pontiff is impracticable ; the 
Pope is dead ; and they who shall attempt to resuscitate his body 
will only cause men the better to see that it is already mortified 

* Spoken of Judas Maccabseus, who rescued the Jews from ruin. 



VENTURA. 287 



and fast dissolving into the dust. The Pope is dead — dead by the 
works of Pius Ninth, the last of pontifical princes. From his 
ashes will arise not another prince, not another pontiff; but a 
proper Father among Christians, a true servant of servants to 
give example to the world of meekness, humility, self-denial and 
love. The Pope is dead, and with him must die the vanity of 
the Church, its profane pomp, its corrupt and debasing ceremo- 
nies, its material idolatries, the cruel travesty of the true faith, the 
robberies of the goods of the poor and honest, under the names 
of masses, prebends and benefices.'* 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Bay and City of Naples — Government and People — Revolution — Coun- 
ter-Re volution — The Villa Reale — Posilipo — Yirgil's Tomb — Pozzuoii, 
the ancient Puteoli — Grotto of Posolipo. 

GLiDiNa along the coast of the Mediterranean, after a pleasant 
sail from Civita Yecchia, at last we catch a glimpse of Vesuvius, 
covered with a dense mass of clouds. Making a fine curve, we 
pass the rocky promontories of Sorrento and Miseno, and en- 
ter the bay of Naples, which opens like a vast amphitheatre, 
bounded by the city, and the long ranges of volcanic mountains, 
which all but encircle it with their blackened summits. Unfor- 
tunately it begins to rain, and the whole surrounding region is 
enveloped in misty vapor ; a grievous disappointment to those 
who, for days, have been eagerly anticipating one of the most 
beautiful sights in the world ! But we keep our station on the 
deck of the steamer, and wait patiently till it clears away a little, 
and then strain our eyes to discover the various points of interest 
in this celebrated locahty. The clouds, however, still hover over 
the city, and hang, like a hoary crown, upon the head of Mount 
Vesuvius. A few moments and our highest wishes are gratified ; 
gratified all the more for being disappointed at first. The clouds 
suddenly break away, and the sun shines out in full-orbed splen- 
dor. The city, with its palaces and castles, its long ranges of 
stuccoed houses and magnificent churches, lying upon the 
acclivity, and crowning the summits of the hill ; the wide sweep- 



NAPLES. 289 



mg bay, with its barges, boats and steamers, sparkling in the 
sunhght ; Mount Vesuvius, towering to the sky, and still covered 
with its canopy of clouds ; the long ranges of mountain heights 
sweeping to the right — all are flooded with golden radiance, and 
appear, to our delighted vision, like scenes of fairy land. " Beauti- 
ful! surpassingly beautiful !" exclaims one of our travelling com- 
panions, to which we give a ready and enthusiastic response. 
The city of Naples lies upon the margin of the bay, in the form 
of a semicircle, and gradually spreads itself upon the acclivity 
behind, crowned by the Castle of St. Elmo, which overlooks the 
whole. The houses and streets rise, the one above the other, in- 
terspersed with gardens and trees. Many of the buildings are 
large and elegant. The palace on one of the heights, and the 
Nuovo Castello, with various other buildings in a castellated form, 
are excedingly striking and picturesque, as seen from the bay, 
and give to the whole city a most imposing and graceful aspect. 

Pleasant it is, on a fine summer afternoon, rapidly to approach 
this attractive city, becoming more and more distinct, if not more 
beautiful to the vision, and casting long shadows into the bay, 
*' so darkly, deeply, beautifully blue." But romance must give 
way to reality, and we have to submit, with the best grace we 
can, to a long detention at the custom-house, where our passports 
are examined, and our luggage ransacked, by a set of rascally 
looking officials, who politely demand a douceur for the trouble 
to which they have exposed us ! 

After establishing ourselves in our hotel, making all right, 
brushing up the outer man, and so forth, we sally forth in the 
evening, and take a long stroll through the principal street of the 
city, and along the mole, where crowds of peopl-e are lounging 
about or sitting on benches, talking and laughing, purchasing 
eatables, or sipping iced water. From the mole we have some 
fine v^^ews of the bay and the neighboring mountains. At some 
13 



290 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



distance on the right we can see Pozzuoli, the ancient Puteoli, 
sacred from the memory of the apostle Paul, and nearer to us the 
hill of Posilipo, crowned with gardens and villas. It is a clear 
and placid evening, and we saunter as far as the Villa Reale, 
the public garden or promenade, which runs along the edge of 
the bay, and forms a charming retreat from the bustle of the 
city. From this we intend to take a turn round in another di- 
rection, so as to reach our hotel by a shorter way. But we are 
suddenly caught in a tremendous shower of rain, accompanied by 
the most vivid flashes of lightning. We take refuge with the 
crowd in a sheltered spot, and are kept there an hour, while the 
skies empty themselves in torrents. The atmosphere is filled with 
a sulphureous vapor, as if various noxious gases had exploded in our 
vicinity. At last we are released, and return to our temporary 
home through the crowded streets. 

The next day is a charming one ; the more so from the shower 
of the preceding evening, which has given to the air a peculiar 
freshness and purity, and shed over the foliage of the trees a 
deeper green. So out we sally, and explore every nook and 
corner in and about the city. This takes oflP something of the 
charm which the view from the bay had imparted to the place, 
but gives us a livelier conception of its extent and population. 
Naples has a great appearance both of wealth and poverty ; still 
the poverty does not seem abject, although it doubtless is so in 
many cases. It is absolutely astonishing to find upon how httle 
the common people, and particularly the lazzaroni, can live. The 
streets are paved with square stones, and are very narrow, while 
the buildings are generally large, consisting of many stories, and 
containing, no doubt, an 'ample population. The more public 
thoroughfares are filled with people, carriages, horses, asses and 
mules. A dozen of these carriages will rush past you in a train, 
making you jump from side to side to escape being run over. 



NAPLES. . 291 



The houses are lofty, with innumerable balustrades and other 
prominences, crowned with hanging gardens filled with flowers. 
Some of them are immense piles ; old palaces, perhaps, with great 
gateways and quadrangular courts. This is the form of most 
of the hotels and of the larger dwelling-houses, not only here, but 
throughout Italy, and to some extent in France. They are huge 
lumbering affairs, containing a large open court in the centie, 
entered by an arched gateway from the street. At each of tliese 
a porter is stationed, and not unfrequently a soldier with a mus- 
ket on his shoulder. The chambers are large and airy, with iron 
bedsteads, smooth oaken or tile floors, in some cases of mosaic, 
scoured clean and bright, and with many little conveniences pe- 
cuhar to the country. 

Naples contains a population of not less than three hundred 
and sixty thousand inhabitants, a circumstance which accounts 
for the immense crowds in the streets, and the perfect Babel of 
noises which everywhere greet the ear. It is surrounded by 
places and objects of great interest, such as the grotto of Posi- 
lipo, YirgiFs tomb, Psestum, with its ruins of Grecian archi- 
tecture, Baiee, and the scenes described in the sixth book of 
Virgil's JEneid, Vesuvius, the disentombed cities of Herculaneum 
and Pompeii, the islands of Ischia and Procida, the Campagna 
Felice, and many beautiful villages which unite, by tlieir classic 
associations, the hoary past with the youthful present. Besides, 
the whole neighboring country abounds in the richest and most 
varied sylvan scenery, while the climate and sky are among the 
lovehest in the world, vindicating, to some extent, the extravagant 
expression of the Neapolitans — Visit JVaples, and die ! 

Naples existed in the times of the Greeks, by whom it was 
called Proserpina, on account of the beauty of the situation, and 
subsequently Neapolis, as a completely new city was built upon 
the site of the old. Subsequently possessed by the Romans, it 



292 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



continued to increase in wcciltli and population. Passing suc- 
cessively under Provencal, Spanish and Austrian dominion, it has 
seen many changes, undergone many revoliitions. It boasts the 
possession of the finest bay, and one of the largest collections of 
classical antiquities in the world, a site of unrivalled beauty, and a 
population of great quickness and versatihty, if not of high charac- 
ter and sterling worth. The government, which embraces that of 
the Two Sicilies, containing a population of about eight millions, 
is despotic and badly administered, and the whole land, city and 
country, swarms with priests, monks and beggars. There is no 
country in the world perhaps, except Spain, more completely 
priestridden, and none in which is found such a superabundance 
of idle and worthless inhabitants. Yet the people generally, who 
have Grecian and Moorish blood in their veins, are remarkably 
vivacious and cheerful, live upon a trifle, and probably enjoy a 
fair amount of *' material" happiness. It is a land of volcanoes 
and earthquakes, a fervid and generous clime, in which human 
nature is apt to become quick and passionate, improvident and 
wild. Hence the changes in their condition have often been as 
fierce and startling as the eruptions of JEtna or Vesuvius. At 
times yielding quietly and passively to the most galling despot- 
ism, and then startling the world with sudden and bloody revo- 
lutions ; now shouting for freedom, and anon making the welkin 
ring with vivas for kingly thrall. Immersed in sensuality, yet 
possessed of a noble nature, there is no extravagance of good or 
bad which they may not perpetrate. The language of Gold- 
smith is as applicable now as it was fifty years ago : 

" For small the bliss that sense alone bestows, 
And sensual bhss is all the nation knows. 
In florid beauty grdves and fields appear, , 

Man seems the only growth that dwindles here ; 



NAPLES. 293 



Contrasted faults through all his manners reign ; 
Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain ; 
Though grave, yet trifling ; zealous, yet untrue ; 
And even in penance planning sins anew." 



It is on this ground that we are to explain the sudden and ter- 
rible reaction, which followed the late revolution, reminding us of 
the days of Masienello and the Sicilian Yespers. Naples, at last, 
appeared on the point of attaining freedom. The feeble but 
crafty Bourbon, now occupying the throne, seemed fairly subdued ; 
a constitution, with elements of liberty, though sadly deficient in 
some of its provisions, was proclaimed, and the whole land re- 
joiced in her opening prospects. But instantly the heavens are 
covered with blackness, the earth shakes, the lightning flashes, 
and the moral Vesuvius of ]N'aples bursts, in flaming fires, upon 
the terrified vision. A difficulty occurs between the new Con- 
sulta or Parliament and his Majesty, respecting the form of the 
oath to be taken, in support of the Constitution and the King. 
The latter insists upon his rights, and the former demurs. 
The troops are called out ; barricades are erected. The king 
seems to yield, but fills the squares and castles with Swiss mer- 
cenaries, and excites the populace to revolt against the Consti- 
tution. A musket is fired by accident from the ranks of the 
National Guard, who, thinking they are betrayed, immediately 
commence firing. The Swiss retaliate with a murderous fire, 
and the artillery pour grape into the barricades. For a moment 
the lazzaroni appear disposed to side with the National Guard ; 
but, induced by the hope of pillage, take part with the troops, 
break open for them shops and houses, and excite them with 
cries of *'Long live the King," to the most brutal excesses. 
Plunging into palaces and private dwellings, these barbarians 
commit the most fearful atrocities ; children are dashed from the 



294 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



windows, women are violated, fathers, mothers, infants, old men 
and maidens are cruelly butchered in each other's arms ; others 
are led naked to the slaughter, amidst the jeers and insults of the 
mob and the soldiery, and compelled to cry vivas for the king 
with their dying breath. The Royal Guard assassinate two sons 
of the' Marquis Vassatore, in the palace of their father, who im- 
mediately goes stai'k mad, and his palace is enveloped in flames. 
Two palaces, one the beautiful palace of Gravina, are burned. 
Nearly all the National Guards are cut to pieces, .and the sur- 
vivors are immediately taken and shot, by order of the king. 
Multitudes, known to entertain liberal opinions, are taken from 
their houses and executed without a trial. After the struggle, all 
who are taken with arms in their hands are instantly shot, and 
many others are carried, bound hand and foot, on board a ship 
made a temporary prison, and others are thrown into the dun- 
geons and jails of the city. The tri-color everywhere is torn 
down, the white Bourbonic flag placed in its stead, and Naples 
subjected to strict martial law. 

Thus the old regime returns ; the people submit, and the Je- 
suits rejoice. 

But we leave this unpleasant subject. Naples is now quiet and 
beautiful as ever. If man groans and weeps. Nature comes with 
her soothing ministry, and the scene of carnage and desolation 
begins once more to smile under her gentle caress. But ah ! how 
many sad hearts mourn in secret places, or in deep, cold dun- 
geons. Let us leave the city and take a stroll towards Po- 
sohpo, so named by the Greeks, from its serene beauty and its 
consequent power to soothe the troubled breast.^ 

Passing along the Chiaja, we enter the Villa Eeale, which lies 

^Posilipo; or, as it is sometimes spelt, Pausilipo; (from the Greek, 



NAPLES. 295 



along the shores of the bay, in the direction of the grotto of Po- 
silipo, adorned with walks and shrubbery, shady bowers and 
beautiful statuary, with here and there a quiet fountain, and 
pleasant seats for weary pedestrians. The day is w^arm, but de- 
lightful ; and although walking in this climate is somewhat fa 
tiguing, we find it exhilarating and pleasant. We pass a number 
of fishermen, mending their nets, women washing clothes in the 
open air, and children running or lying on the green sward. 
Some of these are more than half naked ; and a dozen embrowned 
urchins, looking, for all the world, like '' John Brown's Httle In- 
dian boys,'' follow at our heels, oflfering their services to guide 
us to the grotto, and so forth. 

We are now on the heights of Posilipo, a long and lofty moun- 
tain range, running from the city towards Pozzuoli, composed of 
soft calcareous tufo, and giving abundant indications of volcanic 
origin. It is covered, to the summit, with the richest verdure, 
vines and olives, apricot and fig trees, among which run shady 
walks, and long lines of flowers. Everywhere, also, it is perfo- 
rated with grottoes and caverns. Parts of it are finely terraced, 
and dotted with dwelling-houses, old walls and fortifications, a fit- 
ting place either for the residence or the sepulchre of the poet. 
Standing upon the brow of the mountain, we gaze, with inex- 
pressible delight, upon the glorious landscape. To the left, on 
one side of a shady ravine, near the grotto of Posihpo, is the quiet 
spot where repose, as the citizens of Naples claim, the ashes of 
the great Mantuan bard. 

— " A fabric lone and gray, 
That boasts no pillars rich, nor friezes gay ; 
An ilex bends above its moss-clad walls ; 
In long festoons the dark green ivy falls, 
And pale-eyed flowers in many a crevice bloom, 
Kneel, stranger, kneel — that cell is Virgil's tomb 1 



296 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Yes, doubt not, though thou find'st nor urn nor bust, 
That slumbers there the Mantuan poet's dust ; 
Gaze on his laurelled brow with fancy's eye, 
And hear his harp amid the ruins sigh/'* 

Before us sweeps the spacious bay, rocking gently in the light 
of an Italian sky, as it were azure and gold woven together by 
angelic fingers, and spread like a thin luminous gauze over the 
trembling waves, which kiss the green margin of the wooded hill. 
Yonder is the city with its castles and palaces, and, far out at the 
entrance of the bay, the lofty promontories of Sorrento and Mi- 
seno, beyond which we can descry the islands of Ischia and Pro- 
cida amid the sparkling waves of the Mediterranean ; and nearer, 
on the opposite side of the bay, Vesuvius with his crown of clouds, 
and the long ranges of the dark blue Apennines. To the right of us, 
for several miles, runs the fine range of wooded mountain heights, 
terminating in the rocky bluff of Pozzuoli, and the low winding 
shores of Baiae, intermingled with green fields, olive groves, gar- 
dens and vineyards, with here and there, on the flashing waters of 
the sea, white sails glancing in the sunlight, or diminished to mere 
specks in the hazy distance — forming altogether a scene of un- 
rivalled interest and magnificence, and justifying in some degree 
the language of Byron : 

" Here IN'ature loved to trace, 
As if for gods, a dwelling-place." 

With reluctance we leave the spot, and descend the hill to- 
wards the road, or Strada Nuova, as it is called, which runs along 
the shore towards Pozzaoli, to which we decide to walk in that 
direction, intending to return through the grotto of Posihpo. The 
road is cut out of the side of the mountain towards the bay, and 
follows the windings of the sea till you come to the above-men - 

* Nicholas Michel. 



NAPLES. 29T 



tioned place. It is therefore a long and fatiguing walk, but we 
do not regret it, as we pass through the most varied and delight- 
ful scenery. JS'or can we cease admiring the immense excava- 
tions in the hill of PosiUpo, the curious and somewhat eyrie-look- 
ing houses literally built into its soft strata, and the strange old- 
world chambers, m some of which may be seen gray-haired 
crones twirling the distaff, in others lazy lazzaroni, or quiet asses 
eating their provender. The grape-vines, which rise to a consid- 
erable height, twining around old trees and poles, linking their 
long arms together, and loaded with festoons of grapes ; other 
fruit trees, covered with deep green foliage and golden fruit, every 
variety of ornamental plant and shrub, some of which have a rich 
oriental appearance, large flov/ering Cacti, and long lines of pinks 
and roses adorn the terraced and castellated heights. Here and 
there elegant villas' are embosomed amid foliage and flowers ; 
while the blue waters of the bay roll, with a placid murmur, to the 
very edge of the hill, and mirror the trees in their tranquil depths. 
Occasionally we pass through umbrageous hedges on either side 
of the road, or sit down to rest ourselves, on some elevated spot, 
upon the sides of the hill, from which we can see far out into 
'-'the melancholy main." 

At last we reach Pozzuoli, a considerable village or town, which 
rises rapidly from the sea, on a bluff or rocky height, with an an- 
cient, time-worn appearance, and overlooking a quiet and pleas- 
ant harbor. The sea here makes a considerable sweep inland, 
and nearly encircles the village upon one side, while on the oppo- 
site shore lie Baiae, aud the scenes immortalized by Virgil. It 
was into this bay that the Apostle Paul and his company sailed, 
when journeying from Malta to Rome. A brusque old man, by 
the name of Pietro Rocco, or, as we should say, Peter Rock, who 
proffers his services as our guide, shows us the very spot (so he 
affirms!) where, tradition says, the Apostle landed. Of course 
13^ 



298 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



we are quite willing to believe it, as tlie place seems the most 
natural and convenient at which to land, and more especially as a 
portion of the old Via Campagna is still visible at a short dis- 
tance ; and if it be a mistake or deception, we have no wish to 
destroy the pleasant illusion. For we can easily imagine that we 
see "the ship of Alexandria" gliding over the waves, nearing the 
port, and landing its precious company on the shore. The " Acts 
of the Apostles'* informs us that Paul "tarried" in this place with 
his Christian friends " seven days," doubtless preaching to them 
the word of life, and giving them pious and cheering counsel. 
As we walk along the quay and through the streets, we feel that 
we are treading, perhaps, in the very steps of Paul and Luke, 
who doubtless took many a stroll together through the place. 

Before leaving Puteoli, we have time only to visit the remains 
of the temple of Jupiter Serapis, which is situated at a short dis- 
tance from the place where the Apostle Paul is said to have land- 
ed. It is one of the finest and most imposing ruins of antiquity, 
and impresses us, at this hushed evening hour, with a sort of 
shuddering awe. The temple must have been very large and 
magnificent, as the ground -plan is extensive, and the few marble 
columns which remain are massive and high . It formed a quad- 
rangle, rounding at one end, leaving a magnificent niche for the 
colossal image of the god. Its pavement consisted of rich mar- 
bles, and probably the entire walls were lined with the same ma- 
terials. The columns are of Cipollino marble — a very beautiful 
variegated marble, not unlike the verde-antique — and were origi- 
nally surmounted with rich Corinthian capitals, remains of which 
are still lying around. In the building you see various niches, 
which were unquestionably used for bathing, besides a huge mar- 
ble vessel, in which was poured the blood of the sacrifices, and 
places for iron rings, to which the victims were bound. In his 
walks around the place, the Apostle must have had his mind 



FUTEOLI. 299 



stirred within him when he saw this majestic temple, dedicated 
to a worship so dark and foul as that of the Jupiter Serapis. 

Besides the temple, there are in Pozzuoli the remains of a Ro- 
man amphitheatre, but we cannot visit it, as it is now quite late, 
and we have yet to make arrangements for returning to the city. 
It would also please us to visit Baiae, on the other side of the 
bay, which is still covered with the ruins of ancient temples, and 
of the villas of Nero, Marius, Csesar, and Lucullus. It would 
still further enhance our pleasure to examine the scenes described 
in the sixth book of the JEneid, the cave of the Cumean Sybil, 

, the Lucrine lake, and the road to Avernus, in which truth and 
fiction have been so beautifully blended. We are content, at 

. present, to imagine them, which we probably do more to our sat- 
isfaction, than if we beheld the actual scenes, which, since Virgil's 
time, are much changed by the convulsions of Nature, and never, 
in all respects, corresponded to the sublime imaginings of the 
poet. In default of our own description, we give the following 
Tery beautiful one, by a poet from whom we have already quoted : 

"But Baise, soft retreat in days of yore, 
That knew no winter, wooes us to its shore. 
Heroes and emperors whilom trod this strand, 
And art, song, pleasure reigned, a festive band. 
Here Csesar stooped his pride to garden bowers, 
And stern-browed Marius wreathed his sword with flowers 1 
Here rich Lucullus gorgeous banquets spread, 
^ PoUio the hours in chains of roses led ; 

Steeped in warm bliss seemed ocean, earth and sky, 
Life one rich dream of love and luxury. 
But BaiaB's shores ire dark and lonely now, 
Gray, nameless ruins crown Misenum's brow ; 
Fallen towers, crushed temples, villas 'neath the deep, 
And scattered tombs where bards and heroes sleep, 
Line all the coast ; and he who lingers here 
Will tread with awe, and drop a sorrowing tear. 



300 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



Approach yon relic, scan its mouldering wall — 
Age, crime, and mystery o'er it spread their pall ; 
There sleeps a Roman empress,"^ dark her doom — 
The fmies haunt, 'tis said, her blood-stained tomb ; 
And when the laboring moon her crescent fills, 
Low trumpets wail along the neighboring hills" 

We hire a caleche, a light painted wagon, hung upon springs, 
and drawn by a single horse, to convey us to the city, through 
the grotto of Posilipo, in which the public road from Naples to 
Pozzuoli, instead of winding around the mountain, as we did in 
the morning, goes directly through the heart of the mountain, 
and thus saves a distance of three or four miles. The grotto, or 
tunnel, as it might more fitly be termed, is about half a mile in 
length, from seventy to eighty feet high, and from twenty-five to 
thirty feet wide. It is arched at the roof, and well lighted with 
lamps, resembling, in some respects, the Thames Tunnel. To 
the eye it appears even more stupendous than that surpassing 
work of art, though inferior .to it, of course, as a production of 
mechanical power and skill. It was cut by the ancients, doubt- 
less, for the purpose of shortening the road to PozzuoH. We rat- 
tle through it in our light caleche, at a good round pace, and soon 
find ourselves in the city, where we regale ourselves, after our 
fatiguing, but most delightful excursion, on cafi au lait, at the 
celebrated Cafe delVEuropa ; a somewhat prosaic, but not " lame 
and impotent conclusion" to a bright and beautiful day. 

* Agrippina, the mother of Nero, who was murdered by her own son, at 
her villa, near the Lucrine lake. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Churches of Naples — Religious and Moral Condition — Peculiarities of 
the People — Lazzaroni — Campo Santo, etc. 

There are in ^Naples a hundred and twenty-two churches, a hun- 
dred and thirty chapels, and a hundred and fifty monasteries, some 
of which we have visited, but found very few of them worthy of 
admiration. Generally speaking, they are in wretched taste, or- 
namented to excess with tinsel and gewgaws, and strikingly 
deficient in architectural beauty. The most interesting of these 
is the church of San Gennaro, or St. Januarius, built in 1299, 
from the designs of Nicola Pizaro. Originally, it was of pure 
Gothic, but the Neapolitans have somewhat impaired its beauty, 
by alterations and additions. It is chiefly remarkable for its hun- 
dred granite pillars which support the interior, and give it a pecu- 
liarly rich and sombre appearance. The body of the saint lies in 
a subterranean chapel under the choir. The guide, an ecclesi- 
astic connected with the establishment, shows us the splendid 
'* chapel of the treasure," in which the blood of the patron saint is 
preserved, and informs us, with a grave face, that three times a 
year a great miracle is performed by its liquefaction, in presence 
of the people. The ceremony of melting the blood, which is 
contained in a dark-looking phial, takes place with much pomp 
and solemnity, in the midst of a prodigious concourse of citizens. 
It is held in the hands of the officiating bishop, and exhibited to 
tlie people as an object of adoration. The heat of his hand is 



302 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



probably the cause of its liquefaction, composed, as it doubtless 
is, of ingredients easily susceptible of such a change. If it lique- 
fies readily, the people and priests greatly rejoice, as this is a 
sign of prosperity and happiness ; but if not, they regard it as a 
sign of calamity, abandon themselves to grief, and offer up ear- 
nest prayers for the safety of the city. 

ISText to San Gennaro, the most attractive church is that of 
Francesco de Paula, a comparatively recent structure in the prin- 
cipal square of the city, right opposite the royal palace. The 
form is circular, with a lofty and magnificent dome, finished after 
the model of St. Peter's in Rome. The interior is adorned with 
majestic, colossal statues of the four evangelists, and some of the 
Greek fathers, producing a very fine efifect. Richly sculptured 
marbles, and paintings of exquisite beauty, are placed over the 
altars, while a soft light from the dome is diffused over the whole. 
We stept into the church one Sabbath evening, at vespers, and 
found in attendance a pretty large, but somewhat movable con- 
gregation. Some were going out, others coming in ; some were 
sitanding, and a few kneeling on the pavement, but without rever- 
ence ; while one or two priests, gaudily dressed in the robes of 
their office, were passing and repassing before the altar, gesticu- 
lating, bowing, and mumbling, in a rapid, indistinct, rumbling 
kind of voice, the Latin service, which none, or few of the people 
understood. It reminded us of John Bunyan's vanity-fair — so 
much glare, splendor and hubbub. Excuse the word, for that is 
the only one which can give the idea. 

The N'eapolitans are a gay, laughter-loving people, very licen- 
tious, as all travellers affirm, and they themselves admit ; rehgious 
enough in their way, but caring little for what is serious, except 
in form, and that only on some particular occasions, such as the 
celebration of high mass, and the liquefaction of the blood of St. 
Januarius. Plenary indulgences, placarded on all the churches, 



NAPLES. 303 



and promised for all times and occasions, affecting the past and 
the future, and reaching from time into eternity, can be had by 
those who choose to pay for them, and submit to the requisite 
ceremonies ;^ and hence their reHgion sits easy enough upon their 
consciences, and allows them all the latitude which they can de- 
sire, either for this life or the life to come. 

Naples literally swarms with priests. It is said there are at 
least five thousand ecclesiastics of every kind ; others put them 
at ten thousand, including the nuns and novitiates. Indeed, priests 
and soldiers seem to be the controlling powers of the place. The 
lawyers number four thousand, and are a wealthy and highly in- 
fluential class, having pecuhar privileges, and in consequence of the 
extreme length of lawsuits, liolding in their hands a large por- 
tion of the real estate. The nobles are opulent, and fond of dis- 
play ; and the king is as complete a despot as ever sat upon the 
throne. But it is the priests and friars especially which attract 
the attention of a traveller, for you cannot take a walk of half an 
hour in any of the principal streets of the city, without meeting 
forty or fifty of them in their peculiar costume. Multitudes of 
friars, in their brown gowns, and black cowls, with girdled waists 
and sandalled feet, may be seen gliding along the streets, particu- 
larly in the morning, and collecting from the shops and stalls their 
daily revenue of charity, in the shape of eatables, money, and other 
things. Some of the priests are good-looking men. The higher 
ecclesiastics, especially, have quite a respectable appearance. A 
very few look ascetic. Some are evidently good-natured, easy, 
jolly souls, who belong rather to the race of King Cole, than of 
Saint Anthony ; while the great mass of the lower clergy are 

* The following are some of the notices placarded on the churches. 
"Indulgentia Plenaria." " Indulgentia Plenaria, Quotidiana, Toties Quo- 
ties." " Indulgentia, Plenaria, Quotidiana Pro Vivis et Defunctis.'* " In- 
dulgentia Plenaria, Perpetua, Toties et Quoties." 



304 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



gross looking, lazy, good-for-nothing fellows, who are as much 
lazzaroni and beggars as any of the lowest of the rabble. 

But there are some good institutions in Naples, and the clerg)^, 
and particularly the nuns, are not without their use. Several 
hospitals for the poor and sick are connected with the monaste- 
ries, and something is done for the education of orphan children. 
A common-school system, of course, there is none ; and not one- 
half of all the people can read or write. The ignorance of the 
mass is immense ; and we cannot, therefore, expect them to be 
very religious or virtuous. It is a wonder, perhaps, they are not 
woi*se. One thing, at least, is in their favor — they are not intem- 
perate. The perfection of the climate, and the vivacious charac- 
ter of the people, suppl}^ the place of intoxicating drinks, or they 
have no money to procure them. General!}^ speaking, they are 
good-natured, and by no means so suspicious and revengeful as 
they have been represented. They love music and shows, and 
live much in the open air. The great body of them have not, and 
cannot have any just conception of what Christianity is. 
^^Pietro, what do you worship when you go to church?'' 
^' San Gennaro and the Holy Virgin, signor !" 
" And of all things in the world what do you love the best ?'' 
"To dance the Tarantuli, and eat maccaroni." 
''Well, but you love the service of religion, don't you ?" 
'' yes, signor ; but we poor fellows don't know much about 
it, and the priests, you know, manage all that." 

This is about the amount of the religion of the common people. 
The educated classes are mostly indifferent or sceptical. But 
scepticism is a little inconvenient at times, and so it is often kept 
in the background. The Neapolitans of the cafes — those at least 
who have seen the world, and pretend to any enlargement of 
mind — -will sometimes talk freely with strangers of the corruptions 
of their government and religion, but much of all this is mere 



NAPLES. 305 



smoke, and comes to nothing. The reaction from the late revolu- 
tion, and the universal presence of spies and informers, now seal 
all hps. Some of the priests are doubtless intelligent ; some, we 
hope, are pious ; but a large proportion of them know little ex- 
cept their breviary ; and for our part, we would rather take our 
chance of heaven with the lazzaroni, than with the priests. But 
another is their Judge, not we ; to their own Master they stand or 
fall ; and so we leave them to Him '^ who knoweth our frame, and 
remembereth that we are dust." 

One newspaper only is published in Naples, a poor looking 
quarto, subject exclusively to the control and censorship of the 
government. A single university, not largely attended, is endow- 
ed by the State, and exerts no great influence.^ The Jesuits 
have two colleges, of course mechanical affairs, fitted only to 
make the mind of a willing pupil quoad haculuniy as a staff, in the 
hand of another, to use the words of their founder, Ignatius Loy- 
ola. How, then, can freedom — how can religion flourish in such 
a city, or in such a State ? But as among the desolate scorise of 
Mount Vesuvius you see spots of green herbage, and a few soHtary 
flowers, so, doubtless, there are pious, noble* hearted and beauti- 
ful characters amid the corrupt and superstitious elements of Ne- 
apolitan society. Everywhere, under Christian influences, more 
or less perfect, God has his chosen ones ; and everywhere, there- 
fore, we ought to cherish a spirit of charity and hope. 

Thus far we have characterized the inhabitants of Naples in a 
general Avay, particularly with reference to rehgion and morals ; 
but there are a number of little things not yet mentioned, which 
we will bring together in this chapter, and then dismiss the sub- 
ject. Let the reader accompany us in a ramble through the streets, 

* Gallupi, Professor of Philosophy, is one of the most learned men in the 
country. 



306 GENIUS OF ITALY, 



and see what is going on. Let us enter the Strada Toledo at its 
eastern extremity, and walk through it towards the Chiaja. But 
look out for your heels. There is no trottoir, as you perceive, and 
the street is filled with all sorts of vehicles, driving along as furi- 
ously as if they were in Broadway ; and, if you do not keep a 
sharp look-out, you may presently find yourself tossed from your 
perpendicular. Have a care of your pockets also, particularly if 
you have any loose handkerchief which you do not wish to dispose 
of. What a hubbub ! What a variety of costumes ! It seems as 
if all sorts of people had come out to show themselves, and hold 
a rag fair ! Those genteel-looking people in that flaunting car- 
riage, open at the top, belong to the nobiUty. The gentleman 
with the huge moustaches is an old courtier, and the lady who 
sits by him, dazzHng with lace and jewels, is his youthful wife. 
But look there — that carriage behind contains the bishop of S., 
a good-looking prelate, as you perceive, with a remarkably com- 
placent smile. His equipage is rather dashing ; in fact, that of a 
nobleman. But yonder comes a bevy of young priests, dressed 
in their long woolen robes, with three-cornered hats, and behind 
them walk a couple of friars, fat and lazy, looking every now and 
then into the pastry-shops, as if they would eat them up. The 
street, you see, is crowded with poor people, lazzaroni and others, 
most of them carrying burdens, moving hurriedly in different di- 
rections. What a prodigious number of offices for the sale of lot- 
tery tickets ! They are almost as " thick as the leaves in Yallam- 
brosa.'* Naples is excessively addicted to gambling. All sorts 
of games of hazard are popular here ; and in every part of the 
city you will find gambling-houses, some of which are large es- 
tablishments, and may be described as the very purlieus of the 
bottomless pit. Even on Sundays and holydays are those dens 
of infamy kept open, with perhaps one or two exceptions, during 
Lent and Passion Week. They are under the protection of the 



NAPLES. 307 



government, and pay a large revenue. In fact, everything in Na- 
ples, and tliroughoiit Italy, which will bring money into the purse 
of the church or the government, is not only tolerated, but patron- 
ized. They are furious against republicanism and heresy, but 
by no means unfavorable to gambling, and some other things which 
shall be nameless. 

But it is of no use to moralize in the streets, so we pass along 
with the motley crowd. What a dashing appearance those mili- 
tary gentlemen cut upon their prancing steeds ! With what con- 
tempt they seem to look down upon the canaille ! They belong 
to the royal guard, and have a right, of course, to be aristocratic. 
But who are those coming, w^ith slow and mournful step, on one 
side of the street ? How singularly dressed ! Why, they ap- 
pear covered w^th white sheets, head and all, having small holes 
for the eyes to look through ! They are monks of a certain 
order, walking in procession at a funeral. All move aside to 
make way for them. That keen-looking old man who passed us 
just now, with his three-cornered hat, is a superior of one of the 
Jesuit monasteries. There are a multitude of these wily ecclesi- 
astics in the city, and their influence is prodigious. Once they 
were expelled from Naples as a nuisance, but they were soon 
restored, and now they manage everything. 

Let us pass out into the grand square before the palace. It 
is nearly filled with soldiers ; Swiss, I should think, five or six 
thousand of whom are in the pay of government. They are 
marching and countermarching, going through various military 
manoeuvres, as if for the purpose of being shown to the people ; 
saying as plainly as language itself — Take care ! Take care ! They 
are often brought here in considerable numbers to be reviewed, ^ 
and a weary fife they have of it, though better, perhaps, than 
that of thousands of the lower classes. They figlit well for pay, 
and their hands are yet red with the blood of the poor Neapolitans, 



308 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



What multitudes of gaily dressed people are flitting to and fro 
but how mingled up with beggars and thieves, rascally-looking 
fellows some of them, who would cut your throat for a couple 
of carlines, if they could do it with impunity ! But all is quiet 
and orderly here ! Certainly, for these soldiers are on hand to 
keep the peace with powder and steel ; and, in addition to these, 
the whole city swarms with policemen, keen a«i razors, while the 
cannon on the castle of St. Elmo ^ are ever prepared, on an emer- 
gency, to pour a murderous broadside among the riotous popu- 
lace below. But these beggars are so importunate ! If you 
walk sloAvly, or linger an instant, even in the finest streets, or 
squares, ihey are at you in a moment, with their whining, ever- 
lasting Carita, Signor ! Carita^ Signor ! So let us step into that 
splendid -looking cafe. It is filled with gentlemen, sitting at small 
tables with marble tops, sipping their cafi, lemonade, iced Hquors, 
eau de vie, &c., and all engaged in animate.! conversation. What 
terrible beards some of them have ! Their faces are literally en- 
cased in hair. Most of them have moustaches, and very few are 
shaven smooth. What keen black eyes, what animated features! 
And yet they are not particularly good-looking. You see these 
beggars and petty thieves hanging about the door. Singular 
that they do not drive them off. But they do not seem to mind 
them. There, one of them has darted in ! He picks up some- 
thing ! a handkerchief, perhaps — and is off like lightning ! Well, 
they are hungry enough, and if they cannot get sufficient by beg- 
ging, it is perfectly natural to eke it out by steahng. 

Now for a stroll along the quay, or the Chiaja, which runs 
along the bay towards the Villa Reale, where we shall have 
the fairest chance of seeing the lazzaroni. Here they are in all 
possible attitudes — some sleeping in the sun, others lounging 
about, ready for anything which may offer, and others eating mac- 
caroni by those stalls at the corner. Well, they are a motley 



NAPLES. 309 



set, and hardly capable of being described. Most of them are 
half-naked, and many covered with garments which would do 
honor to the king of the beggars. Some of them, however, are 
fine-looking fellows. There is one, for example, with a sugar- 
loaf hat, a httle the worse for wear, a red jacket, and whitish 
inexpressibles reaching to his knees, legs and feet well-formed 
and bare ! Observe his features, which are by no means bad. 
Dark hair, keen black eyes, Grecian profile, a well-cut and 
pleasant mouth, and a complexion of a reddish brown. If he 
were only civilized and educated, he would make a respectable 
and useful man. Indeed, it is affirmed by many, that the lazza- 
roni are the finest looking men in Naples. They are not all beg- 
gars, as is frequently supposed ; neither are they foreigners, like 
the gipsies, as some imagine. They are rather the lowest class 
of society, and include the beggars, loafers, runners, and infe- 
rior porters. Most of them are willing to make themselves use- 
ful in various ways, and are mightily pleased when they can earn 
a grano. They live, in fact, by their wits, and when they cannot 
work or beg, they will pilfer and rob — aye, and murder, if the 
occasion require it. Generally, they hve in the open air, spend 
day and night among the stalls around the hotels, wharves and 
landing-places, and sleep in by-places, three or four together, so 
arranged that each has his neighbor for a pillow. Few of them 
know anything of home or of domestic ties ; and all of them are 
more or less debased. They are ready to do any conceivable 
thing for a little money. They will brush your shoes with their 
nightcap, as one or two of them attempted to do mine ; bring you 
a glass of water, show you a cq/e, guide you to YirgiFs tomb, 
and by some Httle service rendered you, willing or unwilling, 
succeed in getting a few granos, with which they make off de- 
lighted to the first maccaroni stall. 
What is the meaning of the term lazzaroni ? It is of Saxon 



310 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



origin, and was originally given to the lowest class of society in 
Naples, by tlieir Spanish masters. It corresponds to the lazzi in 
the old Saxon division of classes in Great Britain ; that is to say, 
to the slaves, the canaille, or the ignobile vulgus of Horace. 

As to their number, it is impossible to say how large it is. 
They are often put at thirty thousand ; but this of course must 
fluctuate, as multitudes of the inferior citizens are ever becoming 
lazzaroni, while many of them enter into mechanical employ- 
ments, rise in the world, form domestic relations, and thus cease 
to be lazzaroni. 

Formerly they used to elect a king or chief, by acclamation, 
who became a person of some political consequence, and commu- 
nicated with the government, in all cases in which the interests of 
his ragged subjects were concerned. The government yielded 
this condescension, for the sake of better controlling them. They 
are probably not so numerous now as they were in former years. 
But they are as lazy, quick-witted, and vicious as they were fifty 
years ago. 

Let us return to the city. But wait a moment. Here is a 
curious sight. Those fellows in the boat on the water are lazza- 
roni. They are magnificent divers ; and if you will only throw 
two or three granos into the bay, you will see them plunge after 
them with an agility which will surprise you. There, down they 
go, head foremost, with the rapidity of dolphins ; and up they 
come again with the money in their teeth, grinning with delight ! 

Pass on, along the quay. It is getting dark, but so much 
the better for sight-seeing in this part of the city. Now the 
crowds increase. What a Babel of sounds — what laughing, talk- 
ing and shouting ! Pulicinello, or Punch, which is indigenous in 
Naples, begins his antics. You see fires blazing all along the 
streets. They are for cooking ; all sorts of cookery, particularly 
that of maccaroni, go on in the open air, in order to supply the 



NAPLES. 311 



lazzaroni with their daily food. Those huge -cauldrons, hissing 
and boiling, are filled with the favorite viand. A couple of gra- 
nos' worth is enough for a meal. See that tall fellow, how he 
gulps it down, making the long, smooth strings of maccaroni slip 
down his capricious throat, with the rapidity of lightning. *' The 
quay of Naples," says the author of the Diary of an Invalid, 
'* affords a scene, such as I think can scarcely be equalled in the 
world. Tom Fool is there in all his glory, with such a motley 
train at his heels, and with such a chorus of noise and nonsense, • 
wit and waggery, fun and foolery, all around him, that, however 
a man may be disgusted at first, the effect in the end is like that 
of : 's face in a stupid farce, when that admirable actor con- 
descends to buffoonery, to save the author of his piece ; you are 
constrained to laugh in spite of yourself." 

But we have been here long enough. Let us return to the 
heart of the city. That large building, brilliantly lighted, is a 
theatre, the next is an opera-house. They are opened at nine 
o'clock in the evening, and close at two in the morning. The 
J^eapolitans, those at least that can afford it, turn night into day. 
They sleep during the warm portion of the day, and spend most 
of the night in pleasure. All classes are excessively fond of the 
theatre, and similar amusements. Singing, playing upon musical 
instruments, dancing the tarantula, are all going on in the even- 
ing, and during the greater part of the night. 

So fond are they of play, that they not infrequently, during 
their sacred seasons, turn the facts of the gospel into means of 
low theatrical amusements. *' At this pious season," says Mr. 
Matthews, speaking of Lent, ''the strangest dramatic representa- 
tions are prepared for the people. There is no disputing about 
taste ; if a man in London were to get up a puppet-show to rep- 
resent the ministry, crucifixion, and ascension of the Saviour, he 
would probably receive an intimation the next day from the at- 



312 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



torney-general, and have to defend himself against a charge of 
blasphemy. All this, however, I saw this morning for three half- 
pence, very fairly represented, in a theatre on the quay, by pup- 
pets of three feet high, to a crowded and admiring audience. 
The opposition theatre held out the temptation of a grand spec- 
tacle representing Lord Exmouth's exploits at Algiers ; but I 
ought to record, that the sacred piece seemed to be most attrac- 
tive." 

By the way, the Neapolitans commence reckoning their hours 
at 8 o'clock in the evening, so that 8 o'clock next morning is 
their twelfth hour. The mechanics, such as shoemakers, hat- 
makers, and so forth, work much in the open air ; they are not 
air.ong those who go to bed during the day, but spend the even- 
ing and a part of the night in such relaxation and employment 
as they prefer, so that the streets between the hours of eight 
and ten o'clock are swarming with people. 

The streets however are becoming quiet, and so we will defer our 
rambles, and our rambling talk till to-morrow morning. 

Breakfast over, we sally out again, and pass through some of 
the less frequented streets. How dirty they are, and how vil- 
lanously they smell ! The people look poor and lean. Ah ! how 
poor and wretched must some of them be ! But push along, and 
turn to the right. Do you see that large square building ? It is 
the Neapolitan Foundhng Hospital. You perceive the aperture 
in the wall. Through that the infants are depositsd night and 
day, in a box made for the purpose, where a woman attends con- 
stantly to receive them. From fifteen hundred to two thousand 
are received annually ; but the greater portion of them die. They 
are let out to poor nurses, who can scarcely take care of them- 
selves, and so the poor little things generally perish. Some of 
them, however, are taken and adopted by the superior classes, 
and consequently fare much better. 



NAPLES. 313 



You are tired. Let us liail that caleche, there, at the cor- 
joter, and drive out to the *' Albergo dei Poveri," a sort of poor- 
house, or house of industry. It is a huge building, containing 
some fifteen or sixteen hundred inmates, men, women and boys, 
in comparison with whom the occupants of poor-houses in America 
are ladies and gentlemen. The men are frequently hired as 
mourners at funerals, and admirable mourners they make, for they 
look the very picture of wretchedness and despair. 

We will now dismiss our caleche, and walk along this pleasant 
road to the Campo Santo, the great Golgotha of Naples, as it has 
been called. It is situated behind the city, and externally looks 
pleasant enough. Let us enter by that large gateway. What a 
singular looking place for a cemetery ! It is four square, enclosed 
by high stone walls, and paved ail over with smooth flagging 
stones. Beneath these are three hundred and sixty -five tombs, 
or rather caverns, one of which is opened, each day, by raising 
one of the square stones, for the reception of the dead, brought 
here in a huge cart or wagon, and thrown in pell-mell, without a 
rag of covering, and without the least form or ceremony. Un- 
fortunately we are too late to see this operation.^ But here is 
the keeper. ^' Pray, Mr. Keeper, how many dead bodies were 
thrown into one of these caverns this morning ?" '' Some fifteen 
or twenty, signor." " And that is about the number you bury 
every day, is it ?" '' Yes, signor." '* Well, have the goodness to 
raise one of these stones ; the one that was opened about this time 
last year ?" *' Yes, signor." So he calls for help, and pries up 
one of the stones, and we look in with a sort of painful curiosity. 
We see nothing but a heap of dry bones and dust in the centre, 

* I describe things, in this instance, just as I saw them at the time. Per- 
haps it ought to be stated that religious services are generally performed 
for the dead at their houses. 
14 



314 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



with hundreds of cockroaches creeping around the bottom and 
sides of the dim-hghted cavern. The process of decomposition, 
aided by quick-hme, which is always thrown in with the dead 
bodies, goes on rapidly, and by the end of the year nothing re- 
mains but skeletons and dust. 

There is another Campo Santo, in the vicinity of Naples, for 
the higher classes, beautifudy adorned with marble tombs, trees 
and shrubs; the one we have described is used for the common 
people, lazzaroni and others ; and nothing in all Naples so impresses 
a stranger with the low tone of morals and religion, which can ad- 
mit of such a mode of sepulture. 

Let us leave this unpleasant subject, and return into the city. 
We are again in the Strada Toledo, with the lively crowd who 
think nothing of death and the grave. It is a holyday, and thou- 
sands of well-dressed people are passing gaily along, on foot or 
in carriages. Here is a fine opportunity to observe the features 
of the people. The men look well, but the ladies are amazingly 
homely. In fact, we have seen more ugly women in Naples than 
in any other large city we have ever visited. Thev appear cheer- 
ful and vivacious, dress gaily and converse fluently ; but except 
their black, good-natured eyes, they have little in their brown 
complexions and irregular features, to attract attention. Those 
who are acquainted with society in Naples say, that the women, 
even among what may be called the educated classes, though 
lively, are exceedingly trivial and vain, and by no means distin- 
guished for virtue. They are under the control of the priests, 
and regard a flaunting carriage and a magnificent dress, as the 
summum honum of human life. 

But enough of this. We abandon our street-rambling for the 
present, and promise something more profitable in the succeeding 
chapter. 



' CHAPTER XX. 

Lilerature of Naples — Sannazzaro — Costanzo — Marini — " Fading Beauty" — 
Italian Philosophers — Mirandola — Neapolitan Philosophers — Yico — The 
" New Science" — Closing paragraph of the " Scienza Novella" — Geno- 
vesi — Giannone — Filangieri. 

We have visited with closed lips and beating heart the smoking 
crater of Mount Vesuvius ; we have wandered, in the hush of 
evening, through the silent streets and tombs of Pompeii, and pene- 
trated, by torch-light, into the dim theatres and marble halls of 
Herculaneum ; we have gazed upon the wonders of ancient art in 
the Museo Borbonico, Hngered in the hall of Apollo and the 
Muses, and feasted our eyes upon the majestic statues of Marcus 
Balbus and his son, consuls of Rome, the glorious busts of Plato, 
Cicero, Pompey, Vespasian and Titus. We have also seen the 
charred and curious manuscripts, dug from the ruins of the buried 
cities, the ancient and most domestic ornaments of the inhabit- 
ants, the frescoes from the walls, and urns from the tombs ; 
and among other rare specimens of Grecian sculpture, the Her- 
cules of Glycon and the Venus Gallipyge, splendid monuments 
of ancient genius and luxury. At present, however, we pass 
them by, as the thousand and one descriptions, by connoisseurs 
and travellers, have made them familiar to our readers. 

Naples is not undistinguished in literature and philosophy. 
Here Boccaccio, Sannazzaro and others tuned the lyre ; and hero 
Giannone, Vico and Filangieri speculated and wrote. Other Nea- 
politans have acquired celebrity in various branches of science 



316 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



and literature; but these names are invested with pecuhar lustre. 
Yico and Filangieri especially deserve to be had in everlasting 
remembrance, for their wonderful genius and immense labors in 
the cause of philosophy, history and law. With some errors, 
they seem to us to rank among the greatest thinkers and bene- 
factors of their age. 

We have already spoken of Boccaccio, who, though not a na- 
tive of Naples, long resided here, and caught his first inspiration 
from his interview with Petrarch at Virgil's tomb. Tasso and 
Metastasio, too, spent years in this city or its neighborhood- 
Sorrento is yet redolent with the genius of Tasso, and the Nea- 
politans justly cherish his memory. 

Naples can boast quite a number of poets, though none of 
them can take rank with that illustrious Italian triad, Dante,- Tasso, 
and Ariosto. Sannazzaro, one of their earhest, is perhaps their 
best and truest bard. He was descended from an ancient Italian 
family, and born in Naples in 1458. On entering the Neapolitan 
Academy he assumed the name of Actius Syncerus. At the 
age of eight years he conceived a lively passion for Carmasina 
Bonifacia, a beautiful girl of the same age, whose praises he sub- 
sequently sung under the names of Harmosina and Phillis. Ho 
died in 1532, full of years and honors. Sannazzaro was a simple- 
hearted man, of great purity and elevation of character, and of a 
truly poetical genius. His verses ^re distinguished for sweetness 
and tenderness. Many of his poems are written in elegant Latin 
verse. The most celebrated of these is ''Be Partu Yir- 
ginis.'' His Italian poems are equally beautiful. His lyrics and 
sonnets are especially admired both by his countrymen and by 
foreigners. The following Stanza will give a good idea of his 
style : 

" Oh ! pure and blessed soul, 
That from thy clay's control 



COSTANZO. 311 



Escaped, hast sought and found thy native sphere, 

And from thy crystal throne 

Look'st down with smiles alone, 
On this vain scene of mortal hope and fear I 

Thy happy feet have trod 

The starry-spangled road. 
Celestial flocks by field and fountain gliding ; 

And from the erring track 

Thou charm'st thy shepherds back, 
With the soft music of thy gentle chiding. 

Oh, who shall death withstand — 

Death, whose impartial hand 
Levels the lowest plant and loftiest pine ? 

When shall our years again 

Drink in so sweet a strain — 
Our eyes behold so fair a form as thine ? 

Angelo de Costanzo, born at Naples in 1507, deserves honora- 
ble mention as a poet and historian. His sonnets were very 
popular in his day; but he devoted himself especially to the 
composition of the history of ITaples. In the midst of his literary 
labors he was exiled from his native land for some cause un- 
known — some say a suspicion of heresy — and probably never 
returned. He spent more than forty years in the composition of 
his historical work. 

Marini, the creator of a school of Italian poets, called the Ma- 
rinisti, and distinguished for affectation and extravagance, was a 
Neapolitan. Born in 1569, he died in 1625. He was a man of 
unquestioned genius, but too ambitious and conceited. His writ- 
ings are deeply stained not only with extravagances, but what is 
worse, licentiousness. His "Fading Beauty,^' however, written 
apparently in a lucid interval, not only of genius but of feeling, is 



318 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



one of the finest things in any language. The following are a 
few of its stanzas : 

" Beauty — a beam, nay, flame 

Of the great lamp of light — 
Shines for a while with fame 

But presently makes night, 

Like winter's short-lived bright, 
Or summer's sudden gleams, 
As much more dear, so much less lasting beams. 

Winged love away doth fly, 

And with him time doth bear ; 
And both take suddenly 

The sweet, the fair, the dear ; 

To shining day and clear 
Succeeds the darkling night, 
And sorrow is the heir of sweet delight. 

A lamp's uncertain splendor 

A wandering shadow hideth ; 
In fire or sun, the tender 

Snow into water glideth; 

Yet not so long abideth 
Youth's swiftly fading blossom. 
Which doth at once more joy and trailty too embosom 

How swift thou disappearest. 

Oh treasure born for dying ! 
How rapitlly thou outwearest, 

Oh dower ! Oh glory lying ! 

The arrow swiftest flying, 
Which the blind archer wasteth 
From a fair countenance's bow not sooner hasteth. 

How many kingdoms glorious, 

How many cities over 
Ruin exults victorious, 



VICO. 319 

And sand and herbage cover ! 

What boots strength ? or how discover 
A buckler which protecteth 
'Gainst what doth level all that earth or flesh erecteth ? 

Of time with which she vieth, 
Beauty's the trophy after ; 

Irrevocably flieth 

The sport, the joy, the laughter, 
The cup from which she quaffed her 

Short bliss, leaves naught that's lasting, 

But sorrow and regret for that poor moment's tasting 

Italy has given birth to some original and profound thinkers in 
spiritual philosophy. Pico di Mirandola, of Bologna, who belongs 
to the fifteenth century, was a wonder of learning and elevated 
thought. His work, " De Uno et Ente," is, for the age in which 
it was produced, a work of remarkable depth and power. He un- 
sphered the spirit of Plato, and sounded some of the deepest 
problems of metaphysics. Father Paul, of Venice, was the 
Italian Locke, though probably inferior to Mirandola in genius 
and learning. Giambatista, or as we should say, John Baptist 
Vico, was a man of still more extraordinary genius and penetra- 
tion, and in the opinion of the French and Germans, who are 
more familiar with his works than we in England and America, he 
deserves to rank with the greatest thinkers of any age. He has fall- 
en, indeed, into many obvious and gross errors, but evinces the great- 
est subtlety, comprehensiveness and vigor of mind. His favorite 
author was Plato, and next to him he greatly admired Tacitus^ 
Bacon and Grotius.^ But his genius was kindred especially to that 
of Plato, whose lofty imaginings and astonishing synthetic power 

* He much admired the poetry of Dante, and has been justly styled 
" The Dante of Philosophy." 



320 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



he venerated, as approaching the very perfection of human reason. 
Vico is, more than Kant, the father of the spiritual philoso- 
phy. He is the first, moreover, who developed, with any degree 
of force and precision, the philosophy of history ; and, what is 
singular, he has anticipated the discoveries of Wolf and Niebuhr 
on the subject of Greek and Roman history ; and not only so, 
but has actually furnished, by a piiori reasoning, the key to the 
discoveries of Champollion in Egyptian hieroglyphics. His style 
is confused and crabbed, involved and obscure ; but his powers 
of penetration, analysis and comprehension are astonishing. He 
has been accused of scepticism, but most unjustly. He ever 
manifests the greatest reverence for the Word of God, and lived 
and died a devout member of the Cathohc church. The charge 
of pantheism is better sustained ; for he has confounded the Cre- 
ator with his works, and made God the all ; but he recognized 
the individuality and free-agency of man, and thoroughly believed 
the immortality of the soul. 

Yico was born in Naples in 1668. His father, a poor and 
honest bookseller, gave him all the facilities in his power for a 
good education. He soon outstripped all his teachers, and be- 
came disgusted with the prevalent philosophy, which was jejune 
and arid in a high degree. A severe bodily injury, which he re- 
ceived in early life, confined him much to the house, and gave 
him an anxious and brooding temper, by throwing him too much 
upon his own resources. He read and studied all night, rumi- 
nating, even when a lad, with knotted brow and flushed visage, 
upon the highest problems of philosophy and law. 

All his life long Yico was misapprehended, with some slight 
exceptions, by his contemporaries. His great merit was never 
acknowledged in his own day ; and nearly all his attempts to pro- 
cure a position equal to his talents were unavailing. He dabbled 
in literature for a living, and although his verses and other com- 



VICO. 321 

positions obtained considerable praise, and procured for him a 
scanty living, yet he had no real genius. for letters.*^ He never 
mastered his native tongue ; and his style is intricate and dull. 
His bent lay in another direction. He was at home in the regions 
of pure thought ; and his '* New Science,'' as he called it, is one 
of the most singular, erudite and profound productions which has 
ever seen the light. Even its errors have a peculiar charm, and 
stimulate the soul, like voices from the world of spirits. He sees 
God, finds God everywhere. To him God is in nature, in history, 
in jurisprudence, in poetry, in mythology even, working his own 
mighty and mysterious will, educing good out of evil, and bring- 
ing about the fulfillment of his designs. 

Vico lived to be more than seventy years of age ; and at last 
died, of a severe and long-protracted illness, in the bosom of his 
poor but affectionate family. His was a weary, life-long struggle 
against opposing currents. He was amazed that the world did 
not appreciate his speculations. It was a thing he could not 
understand ; for, in his simplicity, he supposed that they would 
at once hail him as another Plato or Mirandola. But he continued 
to struggle with the mighty conception, and never abandoned the 
thought that he was giving a new science to the world. It was 
his solace and joy in hours of poverty and suffering. " Since 
the publication of my New Science^^ he says, '* I am invested 
with a new nature, and my disposition to complain against my 
destiny is suppressed ; for it is owing to my unfortunate lot, that 
I have undertaken and accompUshed that work. It even seems 
to me (and I trust I do not deceive myself) that that work has 
filled me with a certain heroic spirit, which does not permit the 

* His appointment as historiographer to the king, with a salary of a hun- 
dred ducats, came to him in his old age. His son was obliged to perform 
the duties of the office. 



322 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



thought of death to trouble my soul, and which makes all 
rivalry a matter of indifference. In a word, I feel myself estab- 
lished upon a rock of adamant, a rock lifted high upon the judg- 
ment of God, who sooner or later does justice to the works 
of genius, by procuring for them the esteem of the wise and 
good." 

This justice has been done at last ; and now in Italy, and through- 
out the world, the name of Vico is pronounced with reverence 
and affection. His " Scienza N^ovella" closes with these memora- 
ble words, which ought to be written in gems and gold : " The 
Christian religion is true ; all others are false ; the former ope- 
rates by grace divine, so as to secure for us an infinite and eternal 
felicity, which can never fall under the dominion of the senses, 
but which elevates and renders them the vehicles of virtuous ac- 
tions ; the latter, on the contrary, promise to men only a jinit^ 
si\di fragile felicity, both in this life and the life to come, in which 
they expect only corporeal delights ; so that in these the senses 
drag the spirit in their train. 

" We recognize also the wonderful intervention of Providence in 
the three sentiments, which the pretended incomparable science of 
the ancients ha.s inspired in the learned, astonishment, veneration 
and emulation. The divine light is the cause of these three senti- 
ments, which in spite of the pride of the learned, and the pride 
of nations, yet reduce themselves to this ; that all wise men ad- 
m^ire and venerate the infinite wisdom of God, and desire to unite 
themselves with it. All that we have said in this work demon- 
strates that such science carries with it piety, of which it demands 
the study, and that without being pious, none can be wise^ 

The admirer and successor of Vico was Genovesi, a man of a 
fine philosophical mind, who did much to illustrate and defend 
the opinions of his master. 

Contemporary with Vico, though born a few years later, was 



GfANNONE. 323 



the celebrated but unfortunate Pietro Giannone."^ He wrote an 
able and elaborate historical work on Naples, one of the princi- 
pal designs of which was, not so much to illustrate the annals 
of his country, as to demolish the power of Papal superstition, 
in his j adgment the source of infinite corruptions in Italy. He 
was a man of a vigorous mind, of a firm and heroic temper ; but he 
could not stand against the fury of the priests, and of the Court 
of Ro\iie in particular. IS'either the authority of the Viceroy of 
Naples, nor the protection of the municipality of his native city, 
of which Giannone had been elected an advocate, were able to 
avert the storm. The priests stirred up the superstitious popu- 
lace against him ; his book was condemned and burnt, and he 
himself excommunicated as a heretic. After m,oving from place 
to place with various fortunes, and unable to find a safe and per- 
manent home in Vienna, Venice, Modena or Milan, he removed to 
Geneva, where he was received with the highest distinction, and 
obtained a competent support. He was preparing to publish a 
supplement to his History of Naples, on which he had spent 
many years, when, enticed by a villain to attend the Easter 
festival in a village of Savoy, he was apprehended and con- 
veyed to Turin. He was then delivered over to the Inquisition, 
and perished, after a captivity of twelve years, in the dungeons 
of the citadel. 

Filangieri, a man of kindred genius, the friend and correspond- 
ent of Beccaria, and the reformer, with him, of Italian jurispru- 
dence, had a happier fate. Of the most enlarged and liberal 
views, extensive learning and fine philosophical genius, he per- 
formed for Italy and the world a service of the highest moment. 
He was born at Naples in 1752, of a noble family, originally of 
Norman origin ; and though destined to the military profession, 

* He was born in Naples, A. D. IQlQ, and died in 1748. 



324 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



and dependent chiefly on his own resources, he made such aston- 
ishing progress in knowledge, and discovered a genius of such 
originality and power, that he was permitted to follow his bent. 
His learning and eloquence soon made him distinguished, and he 
rose to the highest offices in the gift of the Neapolitan govern- 
ment. His work on the Science of Legislation, in two volumes, 
was published at ISTaples, when he was only twenty-eight years of 
age, and met with prodigious success not only in Italy but in 
all Europe. Subsequently he published two more volumes on 
Criminal Jurisprudence, which met with equal success. He 
attacked the abuses of the dark ages and the evils of the feudal 
system, not sparing the Church or the State, but cutting a clear 
path of reform in the whole subject of criminal legislation. This 
excited the fears of the Catholic clergy, who hired one Grippa to 
attack him, and procured the condemnation of his work by an 
ecclesiastical decree. But he paid no attention to them, went on 
with his work, and rose superior to all opposition. He died in 
I'/TS, in the midst of the most extensive plans and the noblest 
aspirations for the welfare of man. 

These noble studies have exerted an immense influence upon 
the Italian mind, and have done much to remodel and elevate the 
whole spirit of the national literature. But alas ! Naples yet 
lags in the race of improvement. The people are superstitious 
and priest ridden ; and although every now and then a great 
philosophical mind may arise to give them a noble impulse ; yet 
with a despotic government and enslaved church, they must pass 
through many painful changes before attaining a solid and lasting 
freedom. But the whole system of feudalism, despotism and su- 
perstition is tottering to its base, and the time will come when it 
must fall forever. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



A Sail on the Bay — Views — Island of Ischia — Yittoria Colonna — Her Life 
and Poetry — Naples by Moonlight — Hope for the Future. 

What say you, this fine morning, to a sail on the bay ? Nothing 
could, be more agreeable. Come, then, let us engage a boat and 
be off. But wait a few moments, till we get a little basket of 
provant to take with us. Some bread and cheese, and a little 
fruit, will relish admirably, three or four hours hence, amid the re- 
freshing breezes from the sea. 

It is all arranged. Come, Pietro, Thomaso — don't linger there, 
disputing with those foolish lazzaroni. Man the boat, and let us 
start. Now we are launched upon the blue waves of the bay. 
How beautifully glides our little craft over the scarcely ruffled 
surface! Is not this delightful? Away from the dust and tur- 
moil of the hot city, we are again with Nature, and feel her be- 
nign and soothing influence. Let us get out into the centre of 
the bay, so as to enjoy the glorious scenery all around us. How 
splendid the appearance of the city, softened and beautified by 
distance ! What a rich, undulating shore, from Posilipo to Baiae ! 
What glorious mountain ranges from Vesuvius, stretching far in- 
land, and finally lost in the dim horizon ! Yonder, in all the pomp 
of verdure and trees, rise the majestic promontories which guard 
the entrance of the bay, and beyond them the rolling waves of 
the Mediterranean, and the rocky shore of Amalfi. How sweetly 
looks Caprse, as in the days of old, bathed in sunlight ; and what 



326 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



*more charming than the low-lying islands of Nisida and Laza- 
retto, reposing on the waters, and covered with a hazy radiance, 
such as one sees only in the sunny clime of Italy ! What hfe 
and motion are imparted to the scene by the white skiffs and 
other craft, flitting to and fro over the waves, now turning 
their flashing sails to the sun, or disappearing from the sight in 
the far distance ! Those ships " of war, sleeping on the eastern 
side of the bay, present images of grim but beautiful repose, 
while they remind us of tempest and war, and thus vary the 
scenery as well as associations of the place. 

But let us return towards the shore. As we approach it, how 
lovely it seems, with its green foliage and scattered villas ! 

" This region surely is not of the earth. 
Was it not dropt from heaven ? 'Not a grove 
Citron or pine, or cedar, not a grot, 
Sea-worn and mantled with the gadding vine, 
But breathes enchantment. !Not a cliff but flings 
On the clear wave some image of delight, 
Some cabin roof glowing with crimson flowers, 
Some ruined temple or fallen monument, 
To muse on as the bark is gliding by." — Rogers. 

Turn the prow, Thomaso, in the direction of Baiae. The breeze, 
which blows with the softness of a zephyr, will carry us along the 
coast of Posilipo. Laying ourselves back in our boat, we gaze 
with increasing delight upon the fair landscape, blending earth 
sea and sky in forms of ever- varying beauty. The air comes 
from the shore, laden with the fragrrince of vines and flowers, 
which adorn the green slopes above us, suff*using the mind with 
a soft enchantment, a sort of pure poetic haze, through which 
the memories of the past and the hopes of the future discover 
themselves with more than earthly beautj We yield to the 



BAIiE. 327 

dreamy influence in spite of ourselves, in spite of all the sin and 
sorrow which infest our mortal life. Nature speaks to our hearts. 
Strange melodies come to us as it were from afar ; shapes of 
beauty and glory from the world of spirits, reminding us of God 
and home and heaven. 

We pass the rocky promontory of Pozzuoli, with its strange 
old-world look, appearing as if but little changed since the times 
of the Caesars or of the apostle Paul. Aided by the breeze, 
blowing more freshly from the land, we reach the shores of Baiae, 
and glide southward, meditating on the days of old, when the Em- 
perors and warriors of Rome disported amid their palaces, which 
studded this whole line of coast. 

" The Cumean towers 
There did they rise sun-gilt ; and here thy groves, 
Delicious Baise. Here, (what would they not ?) 
The masters of the earth, unsatisfied, 
Built in the sea ; and now the boatman steers 
O'er many a crypt and vault yet glimmering, 
O'er many a broad and indestructible arch. 
The deep foundations of their palaces ; 
Nothing now heard ashore, so great the change, 
Save where the seamew clamors, or the owl 
Hoots in the temple." — Rogers. 

Winding around, after a few hours' sailing, we pass Caprae, and 
are floating under Miseno, anciently Misenum, once the residence 
of the younger Pliny, and the retreat of himself and mother when 
they fled from the destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum ; we 
double the Cape, and before us, at a short distance, are the isl- 
ands of Procida and Ischia. Let us approach the latter, and 
make a landing ; for it is time to eat our bread and cheese, and 
rest from our long sail. 

Here we are then, under the shadow of the old volcanic moun- 



328 GENIUS OF ITALY. 

tain of San Nicola, and in siglifc of a thousand objects of interest 
and beauty. Vineyards, gardens, groves and villages, alternating 
in the most agreeable and picturesque variety, cover the whole 
surface of the island. 

Seated upon a gentle acclivity, under the shadow of fig-trees 
and vines, the latter hanging in festoons from lofty elms, we re- 
fresh ourselves from our provision basket, and regale our eyes 
upon the majestic scene spread out before us. 

" In all its length far winding lay, 
With promontory, creek, and hay, 
And islands that empurpled bright. 
Floated amid the silver light; 
And mountains that like giants stand, 
To sentinel enchanted land." — Scott 

Wandering about, we come to the place where tradition says 
lived, for many years, the noble and gifted Yittoria Colonna, the 
greatest of all the female poets of Italy. Here, amid scenes of 
enchantment, she nursed her gentle grief, sung her lays of love 
and heaven, and prepared her lofty spirit for its Upward flight to 
the better world. Descended from one of the noblest families 
in the kingdom of Naples, she was born in the year 1490, in Ma- 
rino, a fief of her family. Her rare beauty and accomplishments 
even in early life attracted universal admiration. Sovereign princes 
souofht her hand in marriao^e, but she declined them all in favor 
of the Marquis of Pescara, to whom she was betrothed when a 
mere child, and to whom she had consecrated her best afi'ections. 
Their union was eminently happy. The noble character and 
bearing of the Marquis ; the simplicity, beauty and rare accom- 
plishments of Vittoria ; their ample fortune and entire congeniality 
of feeling, made of life one bright and golden dream. 

But the chances of war withdrew her husband from her side^ 



VITTORIA COLONNA. 329 



and the Marchioness of Pescara was left alone in her castle of 
Ischia, where she solaced herself, as best she could, with the 
charms of poetry and letters. At last the mournful news arrived 
that he had fallen, mortally wounded, in the battle of Pavia, 
where Francis the First was taken prisoner, and the liberties of 
Italy were stricken to the ground. 

Yittoria withdrew from the world, and found consolation in the 
exercise of piety, and in the cultivation of those arts which had 
been the ornament of her prosperity. She refused all offers of 
marriage, which her beauty, talents and virtues induced several 
nobles and princes to make, her heart clinging, with a fonder af- 
fection, to the image of her departed husband, and finding a 
solemn joy in the thought of that higher sphere, into which she 
hoped erelong to enter. She was the friend of Bernardino Ochino, 
and the noble Carnesecchi, with whose religious sentiments she 
cherished a lively sympathy. The Cardinals Bembo, Contarini and 
Pole, and the poets Guidiccioni, Flaminio, Molza and Alamanni, 
were also numbered among her friends and correspondents. But 
with none of these did she maintain a friendship so close and 
endearing, and yet so pure and elevated, as with the noble Michael 
Angelo, whose genius and virtue were equally conspicuous in a 
luxurious and dissolute age. It is of her that this great poet, 
painter and sculptor, says — 

" Thou high-born spirit, on whose countenance, 
Pure and beloved, is seen reflected all 
That Heaven and Nature can on earth achieve, 
Surpassing all their beauteous works with one ; — 
Fair spirit, within whom we hope to find, 
As in thine outward countenance appears, 
Love, piety and mercy ; things so rare 
As with such faith were ne'er in beauty found." 

In 1541, desiring to secure a more complete seclusion, Vittoria 



330 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



repaired to a convent in Orvieto, wlieie she was visited by her 
friends with a reverence approaching that of rehgion ; and where 
she divided her time between the duties of piety and the cultiva- 
tion of poetry. She returned however to Rome, where she had 
formerly resided, and died there in 1547. Michael Angelo, it is 
reported, stood by her death-bed — kissed the cold hand she held 
out to him, and was heard subsequently to express his regret, 
** that the awe of that solemn moment had deterred him from 
equally kissing her forehead and face." 

Her poems are distinguished for vigor and delicacy of concep- 
tion, vivacity and elegance of style. They breathe the spirit of a 
tender and devoted love, a profound and elevated piety. Most 
of them are of a religious cast, and mirror in their calm depths 
the beauty, wonder and awe of the celestial world. Take the 
following as a specimen : 

SONNET. 

Father of heaven ! if, by thy mercy's grace, 

A living branch I am of that true vine 

Which spreads o'er all — and would we did resign 

Ourselves entire by faith to thine embrace ! — 

In me much drooping, Lord, thine eye will trace, 

Caused by the shade of these rank leaves of mine, 

Unless in season due thou dost refire 

The humor gross, and quicken its dull pace ^ 

So cleanse me, that, abiding e'er with thee, 

I feed me hourly with the heavenly dew, 

And with my falling tears refresh the root. 

Thou saidst, and tliou art truth, thou'dst with me be ; 

Then willing come, that I may bear much fruit. 

And worthy of the stock on which it grew. 

But we must not linger here, or night will surprise us in the 
bay. 



NAPLES BY MOONLIGHT. 331 



All right, Pietro. Let us steer directly for Naples. The wind 
is a little unfavorable. But never mind, we will lend a helping 
hand at the oars. There — that's it ; now we go finely, and our 
little boat rejoices, like a strong man, to run a race. Ischia fades 
in the distance. Miseno and Sorrento are left behind. An hour 
or two more of rapid sailing, and we approach the Castello Uovo, 
once more step upon the quay, and soon find ourselves in our old 
haunt, the Cafe dell'Europa, amid the steaming of coffee and the 
everlasting chattering of the Neapolitans. 

To-morrow we leave Naples, and bid farewell to Italy, perhaps 
forever. But there is one aspect of the city and vicinity which 
we must not omit to see. Let us ascend then to the castle of 
St.- Elmo, which overlooks the whole region for miles and miles ; 
and, placing ourselves in a suitable position, let us quietly gaze 
upon the sombre but magnificent landscape which opens on every 
side. The last tones of the vesper bells from the old church and 
monastery of San Martino have died on the air. The moon has 
arisen above the mountains, and hangs in silver radiance over the 
bay, whose small waves are rocking themselves to rest, as it were, 
for the night. The volcanic heights which skirt it on one side 
cut the clear sky with their ebon masses. Far out at the entry 
of the bay you discover dimly the familiar promontories of Sor- 
rento and Miseno, crowned with woods, and slightly burnished 
with the rays of the moon. To the right sweeps the hill of Posi- 
lipo, thrown into shadow, and losing itself in the distance by the 
shores of Baiae. Far beneath us the city lies in a half shadowy 
light, produced in part by the lamps, mingled with the radiance 
of the moon, while the murmur ascending from its busy heart 
only tends to deepen the silence, so profound and beautiful, which ^ 
reigns over the whole. The Castello Nuovo and the Castello 
Uovo throw dark and sullen shadows into the waters: On the 
shore, towards Vesuvius, rises a tall, massive light-house, whose 



332 GENIUS OF ITALY. 



eye of fire, burning dimly, overlooks the shipping and the bay. 
A single strain of music from the neighboring monastery holds 
the ear and heart intent for a few moments, succeeded by a still- 
ness, if possible, yet more tender and solemn than that which 
preceded it. Ah ! if we could only forget how much of sin and 
sorrow fester and burn in the throbbing crowd of the huge city 
beneath us — as indeed, for the moment, we do forget — and permit 
the soul, with its mysterious yearnings, to mingle with Nature, 
and with IS'ature's God, how pure, how blessed and inspiring, the 
solemn and placid images which mirror themselves in the heart's 
clear depths ! 

" All things are calm, and fair and passive. Earth 
Looks as if lulled upon an angel's lap 
Into a breathless, dewy sleep ; so still 
That we can only say of things, they be ! 
The beauteous bay, no longer vexed with gusts, 
Replaces on her breast the pictured moon, 
Pearled round with stars. Sweet imaged scene of time 
To come, perchance, when this vain life o'erspent, 
Earth may some purer being's presence bear ; 
Mayhap even God may walk among his saints, 
In eminence and brightoe^a, like yon moon, 
Mildly outbeaming all the beads of light 
Strung o'er night's proud, dark brow." — Baily. 

God grant that this may be fulfilled even in reference to Italy ; 
a land so beautiful, so full of life and promise, and yet so cursed 
with sin and sorrow ! In which sacred hope, we bid it a tender 

FAREWELL ! 



APPENDII. 



LIFE OF JOSEPH MAZZINI. 

[The following is a condensed account of the life of this illus- 
trious patriot, from an authentic and interesting biography, 
written by Mr. William Shaen, which appeared in England in 
the spring of 1851, in the " Public Good " Magazine :] 

Joseph Mazzini was born at Genoa, in the year 1809. His 
father, who died in 1848, previous to the breaking out of the 
revolution at Milan, was a physician of some eminence and a 
medical professor in the University of Genoa. He was the only 
son, but he had two sisters, one of whom is still living with his 
mother at Genoa. His father intended him to follow the pro- 
fession of the law, and he studied for that purpose at the Uni- 
versity. He was not long, however, before he conceived a 
strong aversion to that subject, and every hour of study that 
was at his own command he devoted to more genial pursuits, 
and thus early acquired an extensive and accurate acquaintance 
with the philosophy, history, and literature, not only of his own 
country, but also of France, Germany, and England. Before he 
was one-and-twenty, he had published, in several periodicals, 



834 APPENDIX. 



articles professedly of a literary and critical nature, which were 
so remarkable for vigor and originality of thought, and elo- 
quence of language, and which also breathed so much the spirit 
of liberty and independence, that they attracted a very general 
notoriety, and one that was full of danger to their author in a 
country where loyalty and truth were incompatible virtues. 

At that time the old Italian Carbonarium was in full force ; 
and Mazzini, in common with almost every young Italian who 
possessed any patriotic feelings, joined its ranks. This very 
remarkable conspiracy had been described and judged by Maz- 
zini, in a paper which he contributed to the " People's Journal," 
in 1847, to which we shall have occasion hereafter to refer; at 
present it is only necessary to state, that he quickly perceived 
that it was, and ever must remain, powerless to regenerate Italy ; 
inasmuch as its only common bond was hatred of the systems 
of tyranny in actual power from one end of the Peninsula to the 
other ; and its only practical rule was one of blind obedience to 
whatever commands were issued by its invisible and unknown 
leaders. It was powerful, so long as it was only a conspiracy ; 
it was well calculated to produce a violent and successful insur- 
rection ; but, from the moment of its success, it must become 
powerless. It could not consolidate a revolution ; it was utterly 
unfitted to educate or to organize a people, and for the simple 
reason, that it possessed no common bond of principles ; it had 
no creed, no faith, no banner, no watchword : Mazzini, therefore, 
speedily ceased to have any active connection with it. 

Before he left college, however, he took part in a popular 
emeute, which was speedily suppressed, and, so far as he was 
concerned, resulted only in an imprisonment of a few days. It is, 
however, interesting as having been the first open declaration of 
that war against the foreign oppressors of his country which he 



APPENDIX. 336 



has never ceased to wage, and which he has, by his teachings, 
turned into a means of moral and spiritual regeneration, as well 
as of political emancipation, for his countrymen. 

Perceiving the defects of Carbonarism, Mazzini determined to 
found a new National Association — secret in its nature, of course, 
for its object was freedom in an enslaved country — the members 
of which should be united by a common devotion to a religious 
and political creed ; which should assert truth, as well as deny 
falsehood ; which should be destructive only to become construc- 
tive, and whose laws should derive their sanction, not from the 
mere will of its own executive, but from the sphere of principles, 
raising those whom they controlled into the character of soldiers 
of order, at the same time that they were conspirators for liberty ; 
looking for support and consolation, not in dreams of vengeance 
and material well-being, but in their devotion to duty, as child- 
ren of God working out His will. 

He named this new association " Le Giovane Italia :" " Young 
Italy." Its faith was that of democracy ; its motto, " Dio e 
Popolo :" " God and the People." It met the wants of the 
country, and quickly gathered around itself all that was best, 
bravest, and noblest of the Italian people, and it has gone on up 
to the present time, increasing in power and efficiency, Mazzini 
remaining its representative, its expounder, and its leader. Its 
motto was visible in 1848 on the banners of the Lombard volun- 
teers, whose bravery and constancy amidst the most tremendous 
trials, and under the crudest neglect, and even treachery, has 
alone rescued the Lombard name from the contempt and con- 
demnation to which the weakness, folly, and bad faith of her 
nobles, who formed the provisional government of Milan, and 
the incapacity and want of determination of Charles Albert and 
his courtly generals, who led the brave Piedmontese army, would 



386 APPENDIX. 



otherwise have doomed it. The same faith upheld, and the same 
bamier floated over the brave Venetians, during the trials of 
their long siege, which proved that they could steadily support, 
as well as daringly confront, the horrors of war; and which 
showed to Europe, that if in general the people of Venice are 
now one of the most degraded of populations, it is not because 
they are in themselves incapable of being any thing better. But 
even beyond their exemplification of what the Italians are capa- 
ble of, when treated as free men, and called upon to show them- 
selves worthy of their own faith, was the defense of Rome by a 
people who had been demoralized by centuries of priestly mis- 
rule, with their fortifications in a state of dilapidation, yet ex- 
tending over a space that required a force of fifty thousand at 
least properly to garrison it, having only ten thousand, and 
these inadequately supplied with the materials of war, yet for 
three months keeping at bay an army of thirty thousand picked 
French troops, who had on their side all the chances of men of 
bad faith dealing with men of good faith, but who, after their 
first repulse, never dared again to meet their victims in close 
fight, but confined themselves to engineering and artillery opera- 
tions ; different portions of the Roman territory also being, at 
the same time, occupied by three other foreign armies. 

It is only the events of 1848-9 that have established, beyond 
dispute, the soundness of judgment displayed by Mazzini in his 
organization of Young Italy ; but those who knew him, and some- 
thing also of the materials he had to deal with, did not need this 
brilliant, though melancholy vindication ; it is, however, a very 
striking proof of his extraordinary genius, that the scheme which 
then resulted in these European events, was conceived and real- 
ized in its foundation by him thirty years ago, when he was a 
youth at college. 



APPENDIX. 337 



It is not always that the genius and zeal which can win the 
admiration of a people are supported by the fortitude that is 
required to justify their lasting confidence. It was not long 
before Mazzini was put to the test. In 1830, he was arrested on ^y^ 
suspicion of beiug connected with the Carbonari, by the orders 
of Charles Albert, who, as crown-prince, had himself been the 
leader of the Carbonari. He was examined by the authorities 
at Genoa, who were, however, unable to prove any thing against 
him ; they therefore applied for orders to Turin, and by the 
king's command, instead of being set at liberty, Mazzini was 
transferred to the fortress of Savonna, where he was confined for 
six months, without being brought to trial, or having any further 
accusation brought against him. At the end of that time, and 
still without even the form of a trial, he was condemned to per- 
petual banishment ; ibut, previous to his leaving the country, he 
was allowed, as a favor, to have an interview of three hours 
with his mother. 

From that day, he has lived an exile and a wanderer on the 
face of the earth ; he has never dwelt in the same house with 
any member of his family ; he possessed no country, until the 
Romans, taking advantage of their brief period of freedom, made 
him a Roman citizen, honoring themselves in honoring him. 
That sentence of banishment stamped him as a patriot; and 
while it condemned him to a life of labors and sufferings, that 
have left upon him their ineffaceable impression, yet we may 
be sure it tended to raise and confirm his devotedness and his 
faith, and did something to mature those powers and that cha- 
racter which now, while they command our admiring homage, 
win, at the same time, our reverence and our love. 

On quitting Piedmont, Mazzini went to Marseilles, where 
there were a considerable number of Italian exiles, to all of 
15 



888 APPENDIX. 



whom he was already well known by name, but many of them 
had never yet seen him. One of these has related how he 
first saw him, in the midst of a number of other strangers, prac- 
tising rifle-shooting, at a rifle-ground that was much frequented 
by the exiles. " I went into the ground," he says, " and looking 
round, saw a young man leaning on his rifle, watching the shoot- 
ers, and waiting for his turn. He was about five feet eight 
inches high, and slightly made ; he was dressed in black Genoa 
velvet, with the large republican hat ; his long, curling black 
hair, which fell upon his shoulders, the extreme freshness of his 
clear olive complexion, the chiselled delicacy of his regular and 
beautiful features, aided by his very youthful look, and sweet- 
ness and openness of expression, would have made his appear- 
ance almost too feminine, if it had not been for his noble forehead, 
the power of firmness and decision that was mingled with their 
gayety and sweetness in the bright flashes of his dark eyes, and 
in the varying expression of his mouth, together with his small 
and beautiful mustachios and beard. Altogether he was, at that 
time, the most beautiful heing^ male or female, that I had ever 
seen ; and I have not since seen his equal. I had read what he 
had published ; I had heard of what he had done and suflered, 
and the moment I saw him I Imew it could be no other than 
Joseph Mazzini.'' 

The slightness of his figure has been increased by the hardships 
he has undergone. His long black hair has become scant and 
prematurely gray ; and his whole appearance bespeaks a life of 
trial and suffering ; yet there is still in his face that rare mixture 
of power, beauty, and sweetness which have been his character- 
istics through life, and which have won at once the reverence and 
the love of all who have had the opportunity of really knowing 
him, and which cause even strangers to feel, when they see him. 



APPENDIX. 339 



that there is something wonderful in him, and that he is indeed 
unlike all other men. 

At Marseilles Mazzini remained nearly two years, and, during 
all that time, he labored indefatigably to extend and consolidate 
the association of Young Italy. For this purpose he commenced 
a weekly paper, which was the organ of his party, and also called 
" Young Italy." In its pages he first appeared as the political 
teacher of his countrymen, and he urged his views with such 
power and eloquence, and exhibited such a thorough knowledge 
of the wants of his country, in every thing he wrote, together 
with such a mingled wisdom and beauty, and such evidence of 
genius and of virtue, that he irresistibly attracted to himself all 
the best of those whom his writings reached, and necessarily be- 
came, once and for ever, the head of the struggle for the eman- 
cipation of Italy — a struggle that has never since ceased, and has 
rarely become even invisible, for any length of time, and that 
never will cease until his prophecy has become fulfilled, and his 
dream is a dream no more, but a bright and glorious reality — 
and Italy is one and free, with the Eternal City for her capital. 
From Marseilles Mazzini was able, without any very great diffi- 
culty, to spread copies of his paper through all parts of Italy. 
Wherever it was seen it was eagerly read, especially by the 
young, who are the active and the hopeful. Wherever it was 
read, it produced effects which not only threatened the tranquil- 
lity, but evidently endangered the very existence of all the actual 
governments, founded, as they all were, upon the ignorance, the 
degradation, and the fear of their subjects. The following is 
Mazzini' s own testimony to the power and effect of the National 
Association : — '^ The Italian youth had found its men. The lan- 
guage which was addressed to it expressed all which it had long 
felt without giving it utterance — all the secrets of its heart. It 
caugh*- the inspiration — it took its fire — organization commenced 



840 APPENDIX. 



at every point. In the twinkling of an eye, the chain of com- 
munication was formed from one extremity to the other of the 
peninsula. , Everywhere the principles of ' La Giovini Italia' were 
preached ; everywhere its standard was recognized and hailed. 
Its members continued to increase; its emissaries were con- 
tinually meeting each other crossing from province to province. 
Every day the demand for its publications became louder ; 
presses were set up in some parts of the interior, where small 
publications, dictated by local circumstances, or reprints of what 
were sent from Marseilles, were thrown off. Fear was unknown ; 
there was no doubt of success. All this was the result of prin- 
ciples ; and all this effected by some young men, without great 
means, without the influence of rank, without material force, is 
strong evidence, it appears to me, in favor of the standard they 
had reared." 

The Governments of Europe having become alarmed, the 
King of the French was requested to hunt out and utterly expel 
this energetic disturber of public order. The result was a 
melancholy one to all those who had not yet learned how vain 
it is " to put trust in princes ;" but all true democrats should 
rejoice when an evil principle is seen to produce evil fruit, and 
they therefore should be glad that that huge sham, the King of 
the Barricades, proved himself to be a sham by at once consent- 
ing to a decree that Mazzini, the representative and advocate of 
a friendly and enslaved people, should be expelled from the soil 
of France. Mazzini, however, was not a man to be extinguished 
by the breath of kings, and he knew well that this outrage upon 
their national honor was suffered, and not inflicted, by the French 
people, and he therefore refused to go. The French police are 
notorious for their skill and the excellence of their organization, 
and it would have appeared to most men a hopeless thing to 
attempt not only to baffle all their researches and to remain in 



APPEIS'DIX. 341 



Marseilles, but also to continue to conduct a voluminous corre- 
spondence, to superintend a national conspiracy, and to edit and 
publish a weekly journal ; and unless he could succeed in also 
effecting these objects, his merely remaining concealed in Mar- 
seilles would be useless. 

At length, however, it became evident that a longer stay 
must lead to his being discovered, and he therefore resolved to 
pass over to Switzerland. The difficulty of going without being 
detected by the police, was quite as great as any that he had had 
to surmount during his stay ; it was, however, successfully over- 
come, and he reached Switzerland in safety. Here he organized L/^ 
the expedition to Savoy, which took place in 1833, and which 
failed, owing principally to the treachery of Generai Ramorino, 
the same who was shot by order of a court-martial at the con- 
clusion of the campaign of Charles Albert against the Austrians 
in 1849, and who, whether that sentence was a just one, or whe. 
ther he was then made an expiatory sacrifice to the mingled 
imbecility and treachery of the king, had certainly, sixteen years 
before, well merited the fate that was ultimately in store for 
him. Mazzini again found himself in Switzerland ; and this epoch 
is rendered memorable by the weakness of the Swiss Govern- 
ment in submitting to be dictated to by the absolutist govern- 
ments, and in consenting to expel from their republican land the 
exiles of their common faith. 

Before leaving Switzerland, Mazzini published in French a 
small pamphlet which is not at all known in this country, but 
which is one of the most perfect specimens of his genius. Both 
in thought and in language it is full of a sublime and beautiful 
power, that can only be compared to the grandest outbursts of 
the old Hebrew prophets. 

On the 31st of May, 1833, while Mazzini was living in con- 
cealment, a quarrel occurred among the Italian exiles who were 



342 APPENDIX. 



living at Aveyron, and two of them, named Emiliani and Seu- 
riatt, were killed by a third, named Gavioli, who was arrested, 
examined, and subsequently tried for murder. It was soon dis- 
covered that the two men who had been murdered were spies of 
the Duke of Modena, and upon these facts the " friends of order" 
in Italy constructed a tale that the murder had been committed 
in obedience to a decree of a secret tribunal said to be presided 
over by Mazzini ; and in the French Moniteur of June 8th ap- 
peared, without any comment, the pretended decree, signed 
"Mazzini, President" — "Cecilia," another well-known Italian 
exile, "Secretary." 

Mazzini immediately wrote a letter in the Gazette des Tri- 
bunaux, denouncing this document as a piece of calumnious 
forgery. For all who read it, even this was superfluous, for it 
was so full of grammatical blunders and French expressions, its 
style and composition were so bad, as to make it palpable that 
it had been written by some one who was as illiterate as malev- 
olent. 

Cecilia was at that time, and for years afterwards, living 
openly at Paris, and actually upon the aid given to the exiles 
by the French government. He was neither arrested nor 
examined, nor was the aid withdrawn from him. 

In the following November, Gavioli was tried for the murder, 
and after a full investigation, the jury rendered a verdict of 
" homicide without premeditation." 

One would have thought that this monstrous and absurd false- 
hood, after being so superabundantly exposed, would be carefully 
consigned to oblivion, at any rate by his enemies, and that its 
repetition could bring only shame, to them and sympathy to 
him. But, no — calumny does not die so easily. If defeated in 
its first attack, it retires for a season, again to show itself when 
time may have made its refutation more difficult. 



APPKKDrX. 343 

After seven years the lie was repeated by Gisquet, the ex- 
prefect of police, in his memoirs, which were published both in 
Paris and in London. Mazzini this time met it with an action 
against Gisquet for slander, which was tried in Paris in April, 
1841; and. the dishonest and quibbling defence that was set up, 
while it unfortunately secured a verdict of acquittal for the de- 
fendant, yet also completely admitted Mazzini's case. The 
defence was, in eifect, that Mazzini could not identify himself 
with the person accused of signing the decree, and that, indeed, 
as he was universally known to be a man illustrious in the 
ranks of literature, and of unblemished character, some other 
Mazzini must have been referred to. 

The lie slept again : but in 1844, — for we will anticipate the 
course of our narrative in order to finish this subject, — when the 
love of justice and honest dealing of all true Englishmen was 
roused to indignation against the slavish, cowardly, and wicked 
practices by which Lord Aberdeen and Sir James Graham de- 
graded themselves into becoming spies of Russia and Austria, 
and when it was important for the government, if possible, to 
turn the sympathies of the country away from him who, from 
being the victim of their secret arts, had become their public 
accuser, it was revived and industriously circulated through our 
press. Mazzini again came forward to repel it, and, thanks to 
the honest and persevering boldness of Mr. Thomas Duncombe, 
who undertook the management of the case in parliament. Sir 
James Graham, after having recourse to the usual ministerial 
shifts and delays, and having, in simulated kindness to Mazzini, 
advised that his friends should not press the matter further, lest 
he should be compelled to produce the overwhelming proofs he 
had collected, when at last he was driven to his legs, astonished 
both friends and foes by what the world calls a handsome and 
ample apology, stating that he had inquired into the truth of the 
story, and found that it was utterly 'wiiLout foundadoiL 



344 APPENDIX. 



We must now resume our narrative from the time when 
Mazzmi, findmg it impossible to remain in Switzerland, and still 
continue his labors to collect, increase, and organize the elements 
of a national Italian revolution, resolved on seeking a safer, 
though more distant, asylum in England. He remained there 
about eleven years ; during which he kept up an uninterrupted 
communication with all parts of Italy, and never relaxed in his 
labors to infuse into his countrymen his own firm faith in the 
future of his country, and to prepare them to insure it by adding 
to their faith a determined will. His was no easy mission — his 
name had not the weight and authority which the world willingly 
awards to a titled descent, to great wealth, or to striking personal 
success ; for these he had to substitute the authority which is 
more grudgingly yielded to personal genius, truth, and perse- 
verance. He is poor, yet he had to conduct all his operations 
not only at a distance, but under the additionally expensive dis- 
advantages of secresy and frequent miscarriage, caused by the 
powerful and watchful opposition of the despotic courts with 
which he had to contend. To obtain funds he devoted a portion 
of his time to literature ; and, in this way, he has left scattered 
through our periodical press a number of articles of inestimable 
value, which procured him the means not only of continuing his 
political work, but of answering the ceaseless demands for pecu- 
niary assistance by which he was assailed by the most needy and 
least scrupulous of his own countrymen. Nor had he even that 
devoted cooperation from all the self-styled patriots of Italy 
which, had they been worthy to become his fellow-laborers, he 
could not have missed ; his principle and his practice were of a 
truth and purity that were too absolute and unvarying to be 
appreciated by the worldly, the selfish, and the degraded, from, 
v/hom no country and no cause can be altogether free. The old 
organization of the Carbonari was not yet extinct, although it 
was rapidly losing both its character and its power, and becoming 



APPE-nTDIX. 345 



confined to the most worthless of the heterogeneous elements it 
had gathered together. Mazzini's Association of Young Italy- 
had given it its death-blow, and by those who still clung to it he 
was never forgiven. Some little time after his arrival in Eng- 
land, he was condemned by its remaining chiefs as a traitor to 
its laws, and sentenced as such to death. The old forms were 
kept up, the lot was cast, and the selected man was furnished 
with the necessary funds, and despatched to England to execute 
the sentence. 

The choice had fallen upon one whose character accorded well 
with his diabolical mission. When he had got as far as Paris, 
he delayed a short time in order to take part in a robbery, in 
which he was detected, and being tried and found guilty, he was 
sent to the galleys for life. His employers, however, resolved 
upon another attempt, and a second emissary was started off, 
who reached London in safety, and at once proceeded to recon- 
noitre his ground and lay his plan ; for which purpose he assumed 
a false name, and pretending to be an unfortunate political exile, 
called upon Mazzini, who was at that time living in lodgings at 
Chelsea. It is a striking illustration of the extent and perfect 
organization of the Association of Young Italy, that they were 
able to send to their distant President notice of every particular 
of this deep-laid plot as it was formed. On the eventful morn- 
ing, Mazzini was out calling on a friend who lived not far from 
his own lodgings, when he received a message that a country- 
man, newly-arrived in England, was at his rooms, exceedingly 
anxious to see him, and waiting his return for that purpose. He 
at once returned home, and found in his sitting-room his intended 
assassin. It was his dinner hour : his servant brought in his din- 
ner, and he sat down and quietly ate it while his visitor told his 
prepared tale. When it was ended, Mazzini turned to him, and 
fixing upon him a look that at once unnerved him, told himi his 
15* 



346 APPENDIX. 



real name, detailed to him the stages of his journey, and then 
repeated the instructions with which he had been furnished, and 
which, of course, disclosed the real object of his journey. The 
wretched man gave himself up for lost, and, ready to sink in 
abject terror, besought Mazzini to give him a glass of water. 
Mazzini handed one to him, and when he had drunk it, astonished 
him by simply telling him to leave the house. He went, but re- 
turned no more to Italy. He remained in England, gaining a 
miserable subsistence as a spy in the pay of Austria. By those 
who have ever seen Mazzini when the power of his eye has been 
called forth, and who also know how absolutely impossible it is 
for any wrong against himself to overcome, even for a moment, 
his deep pity for the wicked and the degraded, this event in his 
life will be recognized as eminently characteristic. 

We have already alluded to the disgraceful way in which the 
English Government in 1844 made, use of their control over the 
post-office to detain and open Mazzini's letters, and to commu- 
nicate the information they thus obtained to the foreign oppress- 
ors of Italy. As was well remarked at the time by a writer in 
the Westminster Revieiv^ the perpetrators of that vile deed were 
first guilty of, and then justified, the crimes of theft, lying, for- 
gery, treachery, rogue-making, and tyrannous injustice. 

Mazzini found that there were many men in England who 
lamented the apathetic way in which the Foreign Secretary was V 
allowed to wield his immense influence abroad, unchecked by 
that public opinion which has such a beneficial and restraining 
influence upon the home department of the English Government. 
He saw that the time was coming when England would have a glo- 
rious opportunity of expressing her sympathy for the struggling 
nationalities which had been for years buried under the diploma- 
tic arrangements of the treaty of Vienna ; and he was anxious 
for her sake, as well as for that of his own Italy, that an effort 



APPENDIX. 347 



should be made to prevent the approachmg opportunity being 
utterly lost. He called his friends around him, and. together 
they founded, in 1847, "The People's International League," 
the objects of which were declared to be — 

" To enlighten the British public as to the political condition 
and relations of foreign countries. 

"To disseminate the principles of national freedom and 
progress. 

" To embody and manifest an efficient public opinion in favor 
of the right of every people to self-government and the mainte- 
nance of their own nationality. 

" To promote a good understanding between the peoples of 
all countries." 

The League issued a few printed addresses, and held one or 
two public meetings ; but the stirring events of 1848 called most 
of its foreign members, and especiaRy Mazzini, who was in point 
of fact its soul, to more active operations in their respective 
countries ; and it has since then been dormant. 

Within twelve months from the publication of the address of 
the International League, the volcano burst forth ; every capital 
city from Berlin to Naples became a crater of insurrection, and 
all the great powers of Europe, as 'they call themselves, were 
shaken to their very centre. For two years the struggle con- 
tinued, and at length the enormous advantages on the side of 
despotism, under whose banner were enlisted the combined 
wealth, strength and knowledge of all the aristocracies of Europe, 
enabled the ruling powers to put a stop to the onward progress 
of the revolution, which was supported only by the scattered, 
isolated, and often ill-directed struggles of the poor, the oppress- 
ed, and the uneducated people. From that time, the history of 
Mazzini is the history of the Italian movement, and that, in its 
connection with France and Austria, involves the history of 



348 APPENDIX. 



Europe. We cannot here pretend to do more than glance at its 
most prominent features, and to point out to our readers where 
they may gain more detailed information, if they are desirous of 
doing so. It is now well known that the accounts contained in 
the English newspapers, from " Our Correspondent," are utterly 
untrustworthy in form as well as in coloring. What we have 
here stated, however, will do something to enable our readers to 
judge for themselves what they may believe, and what they may 
feel certain must be false with regard to Mazzini. We will, 
therefore, content ourselves with a very short notice of the part 
he took in those eventful proceedings. 

As soon as the revolution at Milan had broken down the 
barrier between him and his country, he started for the Conti- 
nent to place himself at the disposal of his countrymen. On his 
way through Paris, he attended a meeting of the Italians there, 
at which a National Italian Association was founded. Until he 
spoke, opinions were much divided upon the question, whether 
their prograihme should be republican, according to their prin- 
ciples, or whether they should not take what seemed to some to 
be the more prudent course, and tender their support to Charles 
Albert, King of Piedmont. Mazzini urged that the question be- 
fore them was the regeneration of the Italian people — that with 
that view it would be fatal to commence by falsifying their own 
principles and convictions — that to succeed they must engage in 
it as a holy work — that they must go to the people in such a 
way as to command their complete devotion — that, therefore, for 
reasons more cogent and more authoritative than any that could 
be drawn from calculations of apparent expediency, they had but 
one com^se to adopt — to proclaim the right of the Italian people 
to freedom, independence, and unity; and when those were 
secured, to determine for themselves the form of their future 
government. He also pointed out, that even on grounds of ex- 



APPENDIX. 349 



pediency, this was much the wisest course. That it was a pro- 
gramme which all the inhabitants of the peninsula equally would 
hail as simple, and yet complete ; raising and satisfying the en- 
thusiasm of all, and yet avoiding the dangers of distrust and 
jealousy which would be sure to arise under any other proposal ; 
for there was no other to which all the different sections of the 
Italian people would be willing to agree. To offer themselves 
to Piedmont, would be at once to convert the question from a 
national to a dynastic one ; and instead of securing the enthusi- 
astic support of the people of all the other states, they would 
insure the coldness and jealousy, if not the actual opposition, of 
their brethren, thus made their rivals, of Tuscany, Rome, and 
Naples. 

These considerations, as urged by Mazzini, at once deter- 
mined the question ; and he was appointed President of the new 
Association. It is important to bear them in mind, as they ex- 
plain the conduct of the republican party throughout the Lombard 
war, which has hitherto, in this country, been almost uniformly 
misunderstood and misrepresented. 

From Paris Mazzini went to Milan, where he was received 
with such enthusiasm by the people, that the Provisional Govern- 
ment at once sent for him, perceiving the importance of securing 
his cooperation. A very short time, however, showed Mazzini 
that they were men with whom he could not identify himself; 
that the majority of them were secretly bound to Charles Albert, 
and that their government had neither the stability of faith, nor 
even that of capacity. He remained in Milan, to do what he 
could as a private individual ; and he started a daily paper, 
called the " Italia del Popolo," " Italy of the People," in which, 
from day* to day, he labored to inculcate his own simple and 
noble views, and the leading articles of which form a series of 
political essays and exhortations of unexampled value. 



350 APPENDIX. 



Having failed in \^nnning him over to their side, although the 
King sent an intimation to him that he desired a personal recon- 
ciliation, to which Mazzini replied that he had no corresponding 
desire, (and if the fortress of Savonna did not rise up before him, 
the King's treachery in 1821, and his butcheries in 1838, may 
well have done so, ) the friends of Charles Albert next tried to 
diminish the influence of Mazzini, by proposing to him that the 
question of the ultimate form of government should be entirely 
left till the end of the war; that, in the meantime, all parties 
should employ all their exertions in carrying to a successful 
issue the war against the Austrians, not attempting to preach 
either monarchy or republicanism. Mazzini at once accepted 
tliis proposal, and it was faithfully adhered to, not only by him- 
self, but also by all his friends, until they suddenly discovered 
that it had been used by the Provisional Government merely as 
a means of imposing silence on their opponents, while all the 
time they were using all their own influence, not against the 
Austrians, but to induce the Lombards to sell themselves to 
Charles Albert for the assistance of his army. Mazzini imme- 
diately denounced this gross breach of faith, and absolved his 
party from any further observance of the original agreement. 

A revolution in the Innds of such men was foredoomed. 
Charles Albert was origin rlly unwilling to take any part in the 
war; he was forced into it by the fear that a continued refusal 
would lead to insurrection in his own kingdom, and he carried it 
on without confidence in his power to beat the Austrians by 
means of his army alone, and yet more fearful of calling forth 
the power of the people. Hence every difficulty was thrown in 
the way of the regiments of volunteers, whom it seemed the 
great business of the Provisional Government to prevent being 
formed, and when that was impossible, to destroy, by sending 
them, without the means even of existence, to perform impossible 



APPENDIX. 351 



duties up amid the passes of the Tyrolese Alps. The provisional 
government, in fact, accepted the leadership of the people in the 
day of their victory, not with the honest purpose of guiding 
them to the realization of their own aspirations, but for the pur- 
pose only of curbing their enthusiasm, and of bending the revo- 
lution away from its natural result to one that they flattered 
themselves would be ultimately more favorable to the special 
interests of their own class. The natural result followed : the 
people, not being called into action, became disheartened ; jea- 
lousies arose, and speedily ripened into hostile divisions; the 
war languished ; the Austrians recovered from the overwhelming 
effects of the first outburst at Milan, and had time to receive 
powerful reinforcements ; Charles Albert perceived that the 
sceptre of the kingdom of Northern Italy was not within his 
power, and calculated that by being defeated in Lombardy he 
could retire into his own kingdom, stronger against the radical 
portion of his subjects than when he had left it ; and so the in- 
famous capitulation of Milan was agreed upon, and the King 
entered the city with his army ; put forth his proclamation that 
he was come with his sons to shed the last drop of his blood in 
its defence, and handed it over to Radetzky without striking a 
blow. 

Mazzini determined to make one desperate attempt to rouse 
the people to recommence for themselves the holy war of inde- 
pendence. He joined the Lombard volunteers, who were led 
by General Garibaldi, as a common soldier, and his company 
was engaged in the last fighting that took place against the ad- 
vancing Austrians. This little army established themselves at 
Lugano, and there -endeavored to kindle once more a national 
insurrection, and a rising in the Val d'Intelvi did actually take 
place. It was, however, unsuccessful ; the people had become 



352 APPENDIX. 



too m-uch disheartened, and Austria had had time given her to 
become too well prepared. 

Mazzini, therefore, again retired to Switzerland, and applied 
himsalf to collect into the organization of the National Italian 
Association as many as possible of those who had all through 
agreed in his doctrines, as well as those who, having been wor- 
shippers of opportunity and calculators of expediency, had now 
drawai from bitter experience a conviction of the truth of his 
views. While thus engaged, the revolution broke out in Tuscany 
and at Rome ; and a National Constituent Assembly was called 
in the Eternal City, to which Mazzini was elected a delegate by 
Leghorn. He im.mediately proceeded to that city, where he was 
received in triumph by the Provisional Government of Tuscany, 
and thence he passed on to Rome, where he was immediately 
also elected a Roman citizen, and a representative of Rome itself 
in the Roman National Assembly. It was only in the latter 
character that he was able to act, as, in consequence of the failure 
of the Tuscan revolution and the inability of the other Italian 
states to send deputies, the Italian Constituent Assenably never 
met. 

When Mazzini first entered the Roman Assembly to take his 
seat, the whole body rose to receive him ; he was requested to 
take his place at the right hand of the President, after having 
been publicly welcomed by the President in the name of the 
Assembly which interrupted the business before it for that pur- 
pose. He was shortly afterwards appointed, with Armellini and 
Saffi, under the title of triumvirs, to discharge the executive func- 
tions of the government, and during his short and brilliant rule, 
the ancient glories of the Queen of the World seemed again re- 
vived ; and the third Rome, which had been so often invoked by 
Mazzini, the Rome of the people, seemed realized, and vindicated 



APPENDIX. S5S 



her right to live by the courage of her soldiers and the wisdom 
of her legislators, the dignity and the power of the diplomatic 
correspondence of her executive, and, above all, by the unanimity 
and the virtue of her citizens. 

We cannot here either give a history of the late Roman 
republic, nor reply in any detail to the various calumnies which 
have been forged by the French to cover their own dastardly, 
treacherous, and unprincipled attack upon the city ; and which 
have found ready propagators in almost all the English daily 
papers, and' especially in the Times. We will, however, enable 
our readers to judge of the rest, by giving them the real state of 
the ease with regard to the principal charge, — that Mazzini, with 
the aid of foreign soldiers, forced the republic upon the Roman 
people, and afterwards invited the attack of the French ai^my. 

The Republic was proclaimed by the Constituent Assembly of 
the Roman states, which had been elected by universal suffrage. 

It was proclaimed on the 9th of February, 1849, some weeks 
before Mazzini reached the Roman states. 

It was proclaimed in a house of one hundred and forty-four 
members, of whom only one^ General Ferrari, was not a Roman. 

It was welcomed by all the municipalities throughout the 
Roman states, who renewed their voluntary adhesion after the 
French had commenced the siege. 

The total armed force of the Republic amounted to rather less 
than fourteen thousand ; all except about fourteen hundred were 
Romans, and all except about three hundred, Italians. The 
French army amounted to upwards of thirty thousand. 

The population of Rome is about one hundred and sixty 
thousand. 

During the Republic, there was not a single condemnation to 
death or exile for any political offence ; there was not a single 
newspaper suppressed, or even suspended. 



354 APPENDIX. 



On the IGth of May, when the army marched to Velletri 
against the King of Naples, from five o'clock a. m. till midnight, 
the city remained without a single soldier, and intrusted solely 
to the people, the French troops being only a short distance 
from the walls. 

Well indeed may Mazzini say, as he does in his letter to the 
French Ministers, De Tocqueville and Falloux, ''Yours is a pre- 
meditated lie,^'' 

Treacherous lies, murder, and robbery, however, when resorted 
to by a great nation, seem to the world not even to require a 
protest ; and so England preserved her friendship for the brigand 
government of France, and Rome fell. 

And if the Roman question yet remains unsolved, so does the 
Italian National question, of which, indeed, Rome is only the 
central hearth. The Italian National party was never so nume- 
rous, so united, and so well organized, as it is at the present 
time. On the 4'th of July, 1849, while the French were actually 
in the city, at the final sitting of the Roman Assembly, a decree 
was passed to " constitute provisionally, and until the people 
shall be enabled freely to manifest its wishes^ an Italian National 
Committee, composed of the following citizens : Joseph Mazzini 
Aurelio Saffi, and Mattia Montecchi ; empowering them to add to 
their number, if necessary, two or more of the Italian citizens ; 
and appealing to all true Italians to assist them by every possible 
means in the execution of their labor, and to conform themselves 
as much as possible to any regulations they may issue in the in- 
terest of the nation at large." This decree was signed by sixty 
members of the Roman Assembly, and has since been signed by 
one hundred other well-known Italians, who had either formed 
part of other National Assemblies, or who had distinguished 
themselves in the national armies. Two other gentlemen have 
been added to the committee, a Neapolitan and a Sicilian ; and 



APPENDIX. 355 



under the guidance of Mazzini, it is actively and hopefully pre- 
paring to renew the struggle for the independence of their coun- 
try, worthily continuing that brave race of patriots who, for so 
many years, have been devoting themselves to the work of en- 
franchisement, and proving that in the South, as in the North—- 

** Freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed by bleeding sire to son, 
Though baflled oft, is ever won !'' 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF GAVAZZI. 

Alexander Gavazzi, the hero-priest, as he has been aptly 
designated, was descended from illustrious ancestors. His pater- 
nal grandfather was born of Italian parents in Portugal, and at an 
early age was nominated Vice-Chancellor of his adopted country. 
This honor, however, was of brief duration, for his name was 
among the list of those proscribed by the Marquis of Pombal. 
He abandoned his property and titles, and repaired to Bologna, 
where his merits were speedily recognized. The Senate conferred 
upon him the title of Pro-consul, and thus raised him to the 
highest dignity within its gift. His maternal grandfather, Pa- 
tuzzi, was President of the Court of Appeals in the same city, 
and was a man of singular simplicity and integrity of character. 
The title of ."The Just Man" was inscribed upon his tomb. The 
father of Gavazzi filled successively the offices of judge in his 
native town, peace magistrate at Forli, Professor of Law in the 



356 APPENDIX. 



University of Bologna, and that of Advocate for the Papal 
States. He was a man of liberal views, and a decided enemy of 
the Jesuits. 

Gavazzi was born in the early part of the present century, and 
was the second of twenty children. He was distinguished for 
his activity and talent. Under the direction of his father, he made 
rapid attainments in knowledge. 

At the age of sixteen, under some latent and sudden impulse, 
he joined the Barnabite Order of Monks, who are somewhat 
liberal in their views, being less superstitious and ascetic than 
many of their monkish brethren. He was attentive to the 
performance of his duties, and spent much time in the study of 
the Fathers and other sacred writings. Of the Bible he knew 
nothing, at that age, as that is one of the neglected books in 
monkish cloisters. The vigorous intellect of the young Barnabite, 
however, made rapid strides in the acquisition of knowledge, of 
dialectical and rhetorical skill. He longed to be useful, and gave 
much attention to literature and oratory. Hence he was selected 
to fill the professorship of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in the 
public College of the Caravaggio, at Naples. Though not superior 
in age to most of his pupils, who regarded him with love and 
admiration, he discharged the duties of his office with entire 
success. The office was congenial to his genius and temper, and 
furnished scope to his fertile and vivacious mind. 

Not long after, it was necessary for him to repair to Arpino 
for ordination. He left behind him in Naples a host of friends, 
who regretted his departure. 

At the command of his superiors, the youthful priest went forth 
to preach in Terra di Livoro and Calabria, amid the passionate 
Bons of the sunny south. He was everywhere received with 
enthusiasm. His natural, imaginative and impassioned eloquence 



APPENDK. 357 



found a ready response from every heart. He was followed by 
admiring crowds, and at the end of a year he returned with the 
reputation of an eloquent orator. After his ordination he went 
to Livorno, (Leghorn,) where he was appointed teacher of Belles 
Lettres. But his stay in that city was short. His method and 
style, and especially the freedom of some of his remarks, stirred 
up the envy of rival professors, and drew upon him the suspicion 
of the authorities. Thus he was forced to leave Leghorn; and 
feeling how difficult and delicate was the office of a public teacher 
under despotic governments, he abandoned teaching, and devoted 
his entire energies to preaching. 

This furnished scope to his fervid genius and liberal views, but 
exposed him to fresh dangers and persecutions. The Jesuits 
showed themselves his implacable foes. He was altogether too 
great, too energetic and free, to escape their censure and active 
hostility. But owing to the latitude allowed to favorite preachers, 
even in Catholic countries, Gavazzi was more at home in his 
chosen field. Of commanding presence, and great oratorical ' 
power, he secured the favor and sympathy of the people. He 
made his appeal to their nobler instincts, their generosity and 
love of country. As by a presentiment of his future fate, he 
perpetually glided into those great ideas of freedom, virtue, and 
patriotism, which have animated his subsequent career. His 
religion was but the basis of a new and nobler life, of a higher 
and grander destiny to his native land. Instead of amusing them 
with commonplaces on the forms of religion and morals, he 
constantly launched forth into those lofty and startling view^s of 
*' life and salvation" which embrace the worlds of matter and of 
mind, and bring reason and faith into harmonious unity. For ten 
years Piedmont was the chosen field of his labors. The seed 
sown there soon bore abundant fruit. He was twenty-five years 



358 APPENDIX. 



of age, and at the zenith of his reputation as a sacred orator, 
when he comnaenced preaching during Lent, in Piacentia, and he 
continued these sermons annually, in the various towns of Italy, 
during the remainder of his stay in his native land. 

Both friends and foes increased. To the more bigoted and 
superstitious of his fellow-priests, and especially to the Jesuits, 
Gavazzi became a marked man, who must be checked or put 
down. But he was ready to do battle for the truth. Too much 
however had been said, and said too emphatically, to be passed 
over by the weak and jealous government. The too popular 
orator therefore was expelled. Parma was the next place to 
which he repaired, and here fresh labors and trials awaited him. 
He frequently spoke ten times a day, so profound was his 
enthusiasm, so great were the demands of the people. At Bologna 
he attracted marked attention by his bold appeals on the subject 
of patriotism, and was shut up in prison among felons and 
murderers. But he became the voluntary, unpaid chaplain of 
the prison, and was engaged night and day in labors of love among 
his eight or nine hundred fellow-prisoners. His noble bearing 
and generous words touched their hard hearts, and they listened 
to him with love and veneration. He endeavored to alleviate 
their burdens and supply their wants. He taught some of them 
to read and write, and procured food and clothing for others. 

He thus justified the purity and sincerity of his character, and 
being released, he resumed his preaching among the Italians. 

He went to Perugia and preached with his ordinary success. 
In Ancona he delivered one of those fiery appeals, in which all 
restraint is thrown off, and the true longings of the heart are re- 
vealed before all. This brought down upon him the vengeance 
of the Pope and Cardinals, and he was confined in a sort of impri- 
sonment, under severe discipline, in the Convent of the Novitiate 
of St. Severino. 



APPENDIX. 359 



About this time Pope Gregory died, and a new pope, Pius 
Ninth, was inaugurated. Gavazzi had been on terms of intimacy 
with the family of the Mastai, and he shared in the general 
rejoicings. A new era seemed to dawn upon the Popedom, upon 
Italy and the world. Italy was now to be united and free. At 
last a liberal Pope was seated upon the throne ! Gavazzi gave 
utterance to his hopes. On one occasion he preached three 
sermons, in which he laid bare the enormities of the reign of 
Gregory Sixteenth, comparing them with what he trusted would be 
the free and generous spirit of Pius Ninth. This gave displeasure 
to the timid and at heart selfish and superstitious " Head of the 
Church," and Gavazzi, who had hailed the cause of freedom, was 
the first to feel the avenging hand of the apostate. He bore the 
displeasure and the rebuke of the PontifiT with meekness and 
patience, for he yet believed in the generous intentions of Pius. 
But he was doomed to terrible disappointment. Alarmed at the 
results of his own half -liberal course, trembling for his life, and 
appalled at the apparent injury he had done the Papal Church, 
this weak and misguided man withdrew all his concessions, and 
began to lay upon his subjects burdens too heavy to be borne. 
Gavazzi, especially, was doomed to sufier from the unexpected 
reaction. Approved by the Pope himself, he had gone as chaplain 
with the Roman army, to resist the encroachments of Austria. 
The day of revolutions had come. Louis Philippe was driven 
from his throne. Northern Italy was in arms. The butcheries 
of the Teuton in Bologna and elsewhere had excited a feeling of 
horror and revenge in all Italian hearts. And although Gavazzi had 
been a second time imprisoned for his too vehement and generous 
assertion of the rights of freedom, he had been liberated, and re- 
ceived the Pope's own sanction to undertake the crusade of liberty 
against the barbarians of the North. His energy and eloquence 



360 APPENDIX 



were unbounded. He moved like a Second Peter the Hermit 
at the head of the army. But all know how signally this 
movement was defeated ; and notwithstanding the superhuman 
efforts of Gavazzi, and the generous enthusiasm of his compatriots, 
he was compelled to yield to his fate, and abandon for the time 
his most cherished hopes. What agony he suffered it would be 
difficult to describe. 

Our readers are familiar with the events which preceded the 
flight of the Pope, — the revolution at Rome, and the proclama- 
tion of the Republic. They are familiar also with the shameful 
interference of France, the fall of the republic, and the restoration 
of the Pope. With Garibaldi and others, Gavazzi bore a noble 
part in the defence of Rome. He everywhere exposed himself 
to danger, now cheering and directing the combatants, now 
ministering to the wants of the wounded and the dying. He was 
often seen bearing on his broad shoulders some wounded or dying 
soldier to a place of safety, or hovering over him, like an angel 
of mercy, administering the last consolations of religion. His 
patience, disinterestedness, and heroism were alike conspicuous. 

But Rome fell before the invader, and Gavazzi was compelled 
to leave his native land. He reached England a poor and 
almost heart-broken exile. He had not where to lay his head. 
It is said that, for a time, he not unfrequently endured the pangs 
of hunger. At length he found friends and supporters. His 
voice was heard in vindication of Italian freedom, and in opposi- 
tion to Papal usurpation and wrong. He resolved to preach the 
crusade of freedom and righteousness; and as the Pope and 
Popery had barred the way to its realization in his native land, 
he renounced all allegiance, temporal and spiritual, to " the great 
Apostasy and Tyranny of modern times," and resolved to devote 
his life to its destruction. Invited to the United States, he was 



APPENDIX. SGI 



received with the greatest enthusiasm. His noble countenance, 
flashing eyes, commanding stature, dramatic style, and fervid 
eloquence, won admiration from all the lovers of freedom. 
Abused, of course, by the minions of the Pope, he has nobly 
vindicated himself and the cause of freedom, in the presence of 
assembled multitudes. Imperfect in many things, impulsive, and 
perhaps extravagant, as some would say, yet noble, fervid, and 
generous, he is well entitled to our confidence* and sympathy. 
He is not indeed a Protestant ; so he says himself; neither is he 
a Catholic in the ordinary sense of the term : he claims to be a 
Christian, a Catholic in the broader and better sense of the word. 
He announces himself a member of the true Catholic Church of 
Rome, founded by the Apostle Paul, and fellowshipped by all true 
Christians. Perhaps he thinks too much of the sword, in 
comparison with the Cross ; after, all we trust he glories only in 
the Cross, 

*' Towering o'er the wrecks of time.'' 

Gavazzi well represents the feeling of most of the Italian 
exiles and reformers in reference to the Papacy. They have 
renounced it for ever, and long for righteousness and freedom, 
as the true basis of all national virtue. Mazzini, Garibaldi, 
Mariotti, Forresti, De Casali, and 'others, noble Italian exiles, 
fully sympathize with him, and only bide their time to aid in the 
regeneration of Italy. Whether this will be done according to 
their views and expectations, we know not ; but one thing we 
are sure of, that if ever men deserved success, they deserve it. 
They may be denounced as visionaries ; but they are noble pa- 
triots, who have done, and dared, and suffered much for God 
and their native land. 



31 



362 APPENDIX. 



GARIBALDI. 



This distinguished Italian patriot, whose unaffected simplicity 
of character, disinterestedness and bravery have won the admi- 
ration, not only of his countrymen, but of all who can appreciate 
virtue^ is about forty-five years of age. He belongs to a family 
of maritime Nice, and in early life imbibed the love of freedom. 
He joined the society of "Young Italy," formed under the aus- 
pices of Mazzini, whom, in many respects. Garibaldi much resem- 
bles. They cherish for each other a sincere and profound regard, 
and are about the same age. Garibaldi, though quiet and distant 
among strangers, is exceedingly vivacious and agreeable in the 
society of his friends. He has a noble and pleasing expression 
of countenance. It indicates intelligence, benevolence, and reso- 
lution. His eyes are lustrous and penetrating, his forehead 
ample and clear. In dress and manners, he is simple and unos- 
tentatious. A strong element of good sense seems to animate 
and control all his movements. Garibaldi is well educated, and 
is familiar with literature and science. He is especially at home 
in mathematics. His bravery was displayed to great advantage 
during the siege of Rome ; but his remarkable retreat with his 
followers, after the fall of that city, yet more fully evinced his 
heroic -endurance, energy and decision. 

His father was a mariner, and young Garibaldi was educated 
for the sea. His mother was a woman of the highest qualities. 
He is wont to speak of her with affectionate veneration. " To 
her domestic virtue, kind care and sympathy for the unfortunate," 
he declares himself indebted " for the little service he has been 
able to render to his country," and which his countrymen, to 
quote his own language, '''have so much overrated." His 



APPENDIX. SC3 



early reading of the history of Rome, under the instructions 
of an elder brother, had much influence in firing his mind with 
the love of liberty. He saw what his country had once been, 
and into what depths of degradation and misery she had fallen. 
He longed to see her emancipated. 

His life on the wave well prepared him for his future destiny. 
There he acquired that bold, daring, generous character, which he 
has since so frequently displayed. The deed of his early life on 
which he dwells with the greatest satisfaction, was the rescue, 
at the risk of his own life, of several pei^sons from death. His 
early voyages with his father and other captains, to several of 
the ports of Italy, the Levant and the Black Sea, made him ac- 
quainted with men and things, and occasionally brought him into 
contact with cases of shipwreck, for whose sufferers his sympathy 
was excited. 

Among his earliest voyages was one to Rome, in a small 
vessel of his father's. The grandeur and decay of the noble 
city deeply impressed his mind. He saw what Rome might have 
been under the influence of good government, and he longed to 
see the citizens delivered from their poverty and sufferings. 
Often, in the wilds of South America, where he subsequently 
spent a portion of his years, he thought of the condition of his 
countrymen, and prayed God to give him the means and oppor- 
tunity of doing something for Rome. When the secret union of 
patriots for the deliverance of Italy was first communicated to 
him, his heart leaped within him for joy. " Certainly," said he, 
" Columbus could not have been so happy at the discovery of 
America !'' 

Garibaldi, too, was implicated in the unsuccessful movement of 
1834, and was condemned to death. After narrowly escaping 
from execution by leaving Genoa for France, in disguise, and cruis- 



364 APPENDIX. 



ing about the Mediterranean for some time, he made his way to 
Brazil, where during fourteen years he distinguished himself by 
his heroic deeds in " the patriot service of the Plata and the 
coast." He was naval commander in the service of the Republic 
of the Rio Grande. There he married a young lady of rare 
character for her noble and generous qualities of head and heart, 
to whom he was devotedly attached. She was, till the day of 
her premature and mournful death, his constant companion in all 
scenes of peril by land and by water. The Italian Revolution 
of 1848 called him to his native land. She followed him thither 
with her two little sons,* and after standing by his side, during 
the entire siege of Rome, like an angel of succor and cheer, she 
fell a victim to fatigue and privation, and was buried on a lonely 
mountain side, far from her native country, on the eastern coast 
of Italy. 

Our readers are familiar with the siege of Rome by an over- 
whelming French force, under General Oudinot, and its heroic 
defence by General Garibaldi, General Avezzana, arid others.* 
The decision, promptitude and energy of Garibaldi were every- 
where conspicuous. Indeed, he did*, under disadvantageous circum- 
stances, and with an inferior force, all that was possible for man 
to do. His whole conduct was distinguished by good sense, 
patience, fortitude and perseverance ; but he was compelled to 
yield to superior numbers. The French entered Rome, and re- 
stored the despotism of the Pope. 



* Roselli had the chief command. Inferior in every respect to Garibaldi 
and Avezzana, he perhaps did the best he could in the circumstances. The 
fact that a few thousand men held out so long against a force treble its 
number, and that no disorders worth naming occurred in the city, under 
the administration of the Republic and its brave defenders, are sufiScient 
proof of their heroism and good faith. 



APPENDIX. 365 



The bombardment of the city, poorly fitted for defence, pre- 
sented a melancholy spectacle. " The 30th of June," writes an 
eye-witness, "was a terrible day for Rome, for then the city 
yielded to foreign force. The bombardment, which continued 
three hours, was so incessant and destructive, that it seemed 
about to bury the whole city in ruins. The inhabitants were all 
in the streets. Here was seen a tender mother with her little 
ones in her arms, running about in search of a safe retreat ; and 
there another, making her own breast a shield for her children ; 
while boys were often met with, trying to carry on their shoul- 
ders the corpses of their beloved fathers. A general murmuring 
sound was everywhere heard of women lamenting, not for them- 
selves, but for the loss of those more dear. A few aged and 
grayheaded persons kneeling on the steps of the churches, pray- 
ing to the Lord to give the degraded Pontiff another mind, while 
those of a more spirited character ran to where the danger was 
greatest, among the falling bomb-shells. Shepherds drove away 
their flocks to find some more secure place ; and as if the animals 
themselves shared the feelings of men, the air was filled with 
their mournful cries. 

" In one spot in the Piazza di Venezia, a shell burst and killed 
three persons. A woman was crossing the bridge of Sixtus, when a 
large cannon-shot took off her head. While standing within a 
few steps of the Colonna Square, I saw in a short time two 
convoys pass, carrying a great number of wounded persons to 
the hospital of San Giacomo ; and immediately afterwards 
several others arrived with biers and litters on the same melan- 
choly errand. Wherever I went within, I heard long and pain- 
ful lamentations from unfortunate sufferers, whose limbs had 
been cut or torn by the swords or balls of the enemy. But 
amidst all I heard not a single exclamation against the new go- 
31* 



3G6 APPENDIX 



vernment, (the government of the Republic, under the triumvirate 
of Mazzini, Saffi, and Amellani,) though a thousand against the 
unbridled vengeance of the Pontiff, who had condemned his child- 
ren to such cruel torments. 

" In different parts of the city fires broke out, and the cour- 
ageous Roman firemen ran instantly to extinguish them. ' Hasten,' 
said I to an old man of the common people, who seemed re- 
solved to remain in the Piazza Navona ; ' hasten, I pray you, in 
the name of God.' ' Let me stay,' he replied ; 'what is there for 
me to do in this world ? Yesterday the French hung my son, 
who was in the battalion of the University ; and this night my 
daughter, the only creature left to me, went to get water to 
quench my thirst, when she was struck to the ground by a shot.' 
And so saying, his sobs interrupted him ; and after a moment he 
was silent and motionless. He breathed, but in a few moments 
he breathed his last." 

" What the old man told me, proved too true ; and the young 
student was found in a villa outside of the city walls, hung to a 
beam. A few days before, the French had thrown out of the 
windows of a house occupied by them, several other young men 
of the University who had fallen into their hands." 

The government of the Republic had been just and orderly. 
Never was Rome in better condition; never were the people 
more fully satisfied with the rule. It was their own choice, and 
not that of foreigners, as has been represented. It promised 
tliem what they had long desired, order and freedom. But the 
knife of the assassin of liberty was at their throat, and they 
were compelled to yield to the relentless despotism of the sol- 
dier and the priest. Mournfully the officers of the Republic and 
the lovers of Italian freedom protested against the outrage. 
Oudinot was relentless. Rome must submit. The citizens were 
commanded to lay down their arms at'the conqueror's feet. Some 



APPENDIX. 36Y 



did so ; others were too brave to yield. Garibaldi addressed 
them in these words : " Soldiers ! In reward for the love which 
you bear to the country, I offer you hunger, thirst, cold, war and 
death. But whoever loves the country, come, follow me." 

They followed him, but his own words were too literally 
verified. He hoped to make his way to Venice, then besieged 
by the Austrians. But it was too late. Venice, too, must fall 
under the attack of foreigners. 

Garibaldi, with a few of his followers and his noble wife, who 
at all hazard would share the fate of her husband, and whom no 
entreaties or tears could induce to remain in a place of safety, 
fled towards the north, and, after incredible exploits, escaped all 
the vigilance of his enemies, and made his way to the coast of 
the Adriatic, and thence by sea to Genoa. But he lost several 
of his brave companions. Some were shot or taken prisoners, 
and others were sunk in their boats in the open sea. His beloved 
wife, after heroically enduring the greatest privations, died of sheer 
exhaustion. Garibaldi on reaching Genoa was arrested by the 
Royalist Ministry, and sent to Tunis, where by French influence 
he was denied a landing. After seeking a retreat in Sardinia and 
Tangier, Gariba;ldi made his way to New York in June, 1850, in 
feeble health. The citizens proposed to give him a public recep- 
tion, but he respectfully and modestly declined it. His health 
has since been restored. Lately he has been acting as commander 
of a trading-vessel, owned by himself, and manned by men of his 
own selection ; brave compatriots, we presume. Should the way 
open, his heart and hand will be at the service of his country."* 

*For an authentic account of the Roman Republic of 1849, and further 
details of Garibaldi, especially in connection with the defence of Rome, 
we refer our readers to the brief but well-written narrative of Theodore 
Dwight, Esq. 



868 APPENDIX. 



POSTCRIPT. 

Garibaldi has been charged with intruding himself unbidden 
into Rome at the head of a set of foreigners, who had no per- 
sonal interest in the city or its fate, and while there, indulging in 
certain atrocities unworthy of a true patriot. His own country- 
men have replied to these charges as follows : 

" We Romans love him almost to veneration, for we were eye- 
witnesses of his conduct amongst us. When, after the armistice 
of Milan by Charles Albert, he entered the Roman States with 
fifteen or twenty Americans and a few young Lombards, several 
Bolognese and Romans joined him ; and when, after the flight 
of the Pope, he was called* to Rome, Rome received him with 
an enthusiasm which offended his modesty. During the siege 
of Rome, he had a very well-organized, armed and equipped legion 
of 1,500 men, the bravest and best disciplined to be found ; 
amongst them were several young Lombards, Tuscans, Pied- 
montese and Neapolitans : but the countries of those patriots 
are all comprised between the Alps and the sea^ constituting what 
is called in geography Italy, and are as familiar to Rome as New 
Jersey and Connecticut are to New York. As to Poles, some 
250 came to Rome when the siege was almost ended, and they 
formed a special body ; of Germans there was but one officer. 
The above facts are derived from authentic documents of the 
Roman army, published by Torre. The description of the terror 
of us Romans, the defence of Rome having been intrusted to 
Garibaldi, is truly interesting, since the occurrence never took 
place ; for it was a certain Pietro Roselli, a Roman, who was 
named commander-in-chief, and Garibaldi was subjected to his 
orders. No one was less connected than Garibaldi with the 
exaggerated murder of priests at San Callisto in Trastevere: 
Garibaldi was at St. Pancrazio with his men, and at Trastevere 



APPENDIX. 369 



was a certain Zambianchi, with 250 ex-soldiers of the Pope 
called custom-house officers. Zambianchi having perceived that 
several priests and friars, the greater part of them Spaniards, 
were continually mixing with the lower classes in order to create 
disturbances, and seeing that the triumvirs, from a spirit of ex- 
cessive moderation, took no notice of their conduct, had five of 
them arrested, and secretly shot. The official newspaper of the 
Pope afterwards published all the particulars of this occurrence, 
as also the names of the five individuals who were killed. 

" The story regarding the nuns of St. Silvestro is false, and 
no more to be charged on Garibaldi than the former. These 
nuns had three convents at Rome, and there being only nine in 
the convent of St. Silvestro, which is large enough to contain 
two regiments, they were ordered to quit it, and retire to some 
other convent. Not having obeyed the order in the time pre- 
scribed, the chief of police went to the spot, and, with all due 
politeness and gentleness, placed them in a carriage, and con- 
veyed them to one of their convents. Garibaldi and his men, 
wearied by a long forced march, arrived soon after, and thought 
of nothing but lying down on the straw prepared for them. But, 
the day after, a few curious fellows, going to rummage through 
the subterraneous passages, found a quantity of skulls and bones 
of children, of perhaps a more recent date than the slaughter of 
the Innocents by Herod. Hence arose the enormous dislike 
with which the invasion of the convent of St. Silvestro is re- 
garded." 



370 APPENDIX. 



BASSI AND BEDINL 

We associate these names together, not because of any affi- 
nity between them, but because they furnish a striking illustration 
of the two conflicting influences which agitate Italian society, 
the one being the type of freedom and revolution, the other of 
despotism and reaction. Ugo Bassi was a consecrated priest, 
but devoted to liberal opinions, and the regeneration of his 
native land. He was a citizen of Bologna, and distinguished for 
his rare .genius, virtue and enthusiasm. He joined the defenders 
of the Roman Republic, and was appointed chaplain of the army, 
in which capacity he devoted himself to the religious consolation 
especially of the wounded and dying, during the siege of the 
city. He was the friend of all, and inspired the soldiers with 
the highest veneration and love. We are not aware that he 
ever bore arms himself, or discharged any functions but those of 
a minister of peace. At the fall of the city he fled with Gari^ 
baldi, but being detached with one or two others from the body 
of his companions, he was seized by the Austrians and taken to 
Bologna, then under the control of Bedini. This sealed his fate. 
He was condemned to death ; but before his execution, Bedini 
insisted on his being desecrated, by having the skin torn from 
his forehead, his nose, and so forth. 

Bedini, the Papal Nuncio, has been commended to the United 
States by the Sovereign Pontiff* himself, as a man of distinguished 
piety, charity and fidelity. He may be regarded then as the true 
representative of the system which condemned poor Bassi to dese- 



APPENDIX. 371 



cration and death. Our readers will form their own opinion, 
after perusing the following sketch of his life and character, which 
all Concurrent testimony proves, in the main, to be authentic. 

Gaetano Bedini was born of a poor family in Sinigaglia, a 
small town in the Eoman States. The family of the present 
Pope resides in the same city. We do not blame him for his 
humble origin, but for his excessive ambition, and his having 
preferred intrigue, rather than virtue, as a means of raising him- 
self Accordingly, having been sent to school with his brother, 
who afterwards became an apothecary, he at once showed very 
little adaptation, and no wish whatever for study ; and was there- 
fore obliged to become a priest. This is the general expedient, 
in the Roman States, for youth who are idle, or who, being 
deficient in intelligence, are not capable of succeeding in a scien- 
tific career. 

But Cardinal Testaferrata, then Bishop of Sinigaglia, looked on 
Bedini with so small favor, on account of the slander which his 
licentious habits created, that the latter thought of abandoning 
Sinigaglia and seeking a living at Rome, where such things are 
less noticed. Being a young man of prepossessing appearance and 
good manners, he was lucky enough to be admitted into the ser- 
vice of Prince Aliteri, who destined him to act as. antechamber 
servant to his son, the prelate. Bedini remained in this humble 
situation until the prelate went as Nuncio to Vienna, when the 
latter took him with him as a rohe-Ufter^ a customary office for 
the discharge of a certain ceremonial of respect observed among 
Catholic priests. 

At Vienna, Bedini most completely obtahied the esteem of his 
young master, by rendering him services which the cruel satire of 
Pasquino then revealed, but which it is not prudent to describe 
here. Withal, he was promoted to the rank of Private Secre- 
tary to Nuncio Aliteri. When the Nuncio, having fulfilled his 



372 APPENDIX. 



mission, returned to Rome and was made a cardinal, he did not, 
how.ever, forget his servant. It being then necessary to send a 
Nuncio to Brazil, and many prelates having refused the office, as 
^ fears were entertained about the yellow fever, Cardinal Aliteri 
succeeded in having Bedini sent there as Internuncio, or Vice- 
Nuncio, as he was not a bishop, and had not gone through the 
career necessary to qualify him for being a Nuncio. Although 
Bedini had studied the Latin language for several years in the 
Seminary at Rimini, he knew very little of it ; and still less of 
the jus canonictim^ which he never had studied before. He there- 
fore took with him a young lawyer, a certain Mr. Tintori, who 
had completed his studies. He also took with him a waiter, a 
servant and a cook. They all embarked at Genoa, King Charles 
Albert having given them a free passage on board a national 
man-of-war which was bound for Montevideo. 

The Brazilian prelates, who, like their brethren the Spaniards, 
study the Latin language and the jus canonicum to some extent, 
soon began to be scandalized by an Internuncio who was so de- 
ficient that he could not explain the serious affairs for which he 
had been sent. But what most injured Bedini was his licentious 
behavior, in which he forgot not only his own duties, but even 
exceeded prudence. This occasioned a good deal of talk in Rio 
Janeiro, and many complaints were sent to Rome, in order that 
the Internunci-0 Bedini should be recalled. 

Meanwhile it happened that his Secretary, Don Tintori, as also 
the waiter, servant, and cook, whom he treated despotically, 
being ashamed of living with such a man, all left him at the 
same time. This circumstance, perhaps the only one of its kind, 
caused a good deal of embarrassment to Bedini ; which, how- 
ever, did not last long, as he was soon recalled, and his ex-Secre- 
tary Tintori was appointed to replace him until another Inter- 
nuncio should be sent. On his return to Rome, Bedini was 



APPENDIX. 373 



named chief of a division at the Secretary's office of State; a 
very trifling employment, and which afforded him but a scanty liv- 
ing. He remained in that punishment-office until the time of 
Gregory XVI. When Pius IX. appeared with his views of re- 
form, Bedini seconded the reforms ; and, pretending to be libe- 
ral-minded, continued his feigned adhesion ; not so successfully, 
however, as to procure him any very important office. 

When the Pope, wishing to withdraw the Constitution and 
every other reform granted, retired to Gaeta, Bedini was the 
first to go there, offering his services, which were accepted, and 
employed in a mission worthy of him. He went in disguise to 
Bologna, where there was a garrison of about 8,000 Swiss troops, 
who had formerly been in the service of the Pope, but had 
passed over to that of the Republic. Having gained admission 
to the house of General Latour, who commanded them, he sig- 
nified to him the wish and invitation of the Pope, that he should 
proceed with his troops to Gaeta, making his way th^re by 
force of arms, and extorting all the money he could from the 
countries through which he would pass. This mode of proceeding, 
together with the inroads of the Austrian General Lichten stein, 
at Ferrara, succeeded in raising in two hours' time the enor- 
mous sum of two hundred thousand dollars, which was sent to 
the Pope at Gaeta ; who, being weary of the delays of the four 
powers united by him against the Roman Republic, wished ea- 
gerly to begin war, by joining those Swiss troops to the brigands 
commanded by Canon Villiani, of Ascoli, and others, whom 
the sect of the Holy Catholic Faith promised to instigate. 

But while Bedini was doing his utmost to persuade the Swiss to 

commit that base action, (without, however, obtaining any great 

advantage, they being almost all Protestants, who cared very 

little for previous absolution and promises of iudulgence,) it 

32 



374 APPENDIX. 



happened that the Commander of Bologna, Colonel Berti'Pichat, 
discovered the plot and the presence of Bedini at Bologna. He 
could undoubtedly have had him hung as a spy and a traitor ; 
but yielding to the warm entreaties of General Latour, whose 
guest Bedini was, he let him go off unpunished. This clement 
manner of acting was the usual consequence of the excessive 
generosity of Italian revolutionaries. Shortly after, Bedini re- 
turned to Bologna, as Commissary to the Pope, at the head 
of an Austrian army, intimating to the people that they should 
subject themselves to the Vicar of Christ. Bologna had been 
stripped of arms and soldiers to supply Rome. The bravest 
Bolognese youth were at the Eternal City, in Garibaldi's Legion, 
in the Bolognese Legion, and in the Riflemen of the Po. Never- 
theless, so terrible was the idea of falling anew under that horri- 
ble tyranny, that a desperate resistance was made, and the 
Bolognese fought for eight days and eight nights, sustaining the 
severest bombardment. The following is the proclamation of 
Bedini, when at the head of the Austrian army, 14,000 men 
strong, bombarding the city of Bologna : 

"Bolognese, and People of the Pontifical Legations, — 

" Being destined by the Pontiff* to renew amongst you his 
sovereign authority, I address you in his sacred name, demanding 
from, you implicit submission. Being people of generous and 
elevated sentiments, you cannot forget the benefits and consola- 
tions which he lavished on you, as a loving father always full 
of affection and forgiveness for his children ! You already gave 
a proof of it, when, worn out by the excesses of ingratitude on 
the same spot of its triumphs, you could not control your indig- 
nation, but more than ever sought to show yourselves worthy 
sons of such a father. O happy he, who could have then ex- 



APPENDIX. 215 



perienced the consolations of that holy and respectful affection ! 
Providence, by rendering the caprice of will so difficult, reserved 
us all for more painful trials. . . . But let the groans of 
the oppressed and the audaciousness of the oppressors end once 
for all. May the sacrilegious usurpation not only of the most 
sacred rights, but also of every name, even the holiest, cease. It 
were vain to conceal that it seduced and led to deplorable ends ; 

the destruction of society, religion, 

and even personal existence, are the fruits of that nefarious abuse. 
The secrets of the heart and the sight of your streets foretell it ; 
the sadness which there prevails shows the melancholy truth. 

"All possible exertions were necessary to check this supreme 
wrong ; and arms simply protective concur with me in the un- 
dertaking ; which, not the delirium of passions, but every one's 
conscience, will consider as holy. May I in my mission find 
ample cooperation of piety and gratitude from you, who from 
this moment are so dear to me, whereof I am most impatient to 
give you undoubted proofs, being inspired by him who will never 
cease to be more your father than your prince. 

" Castello Franco, 8 May, 1849. 

" The Pontifical Commissary Extraordinary for the Legations, 

"MONSIGNOR GaETANO BeDINI." 

Bedini. satiated with blood and revenge, entered the city 
amidst ruins, corpses, and flames, and displayed his full authority 
as Commissary of the Pope. 

Cowardly revenge, rapacious extortions, shameful licentiousness, 
refined cruelties, marked his despotic sway over that unfortunate 
population, and the neighboring Roman provinces. But what 
most affected the people, and what is best known, was the mur- 
der of Ugo Bassi, a Bolognese, a man of extraordinary genius and 



376 APPENDIX. 



rare virtues. Bassi had gladly welcomed the political and re- 
ligious liberty for which the Italians fought ; and had always fol- 
lowed the army, not as a soldier, but as a monk, curing the 
wounded and comforting the dying. Failing in an attempt to 
reach Venice, and thrown on the Eoman coast, Bassi and an offi- 
cer of Garibaldi, without arms, sought safety in flight, but were 
made prisoners of war by an Austrian body of men under Prince 
Ernest Ranieri. Had the Austrians killed Bassi after having 
captured him, not supposing him to be a monk, but a soldier, 
they would, undoubtedly, have commited an infamous violation 
of those international laws which insist upon the respect due to 
prisoners. But he whom soldiers spared on the tield of battle 
in the anger of combat, fell a victim to a Prelate-Commissary, 
in whom the Pope placed full confidence, in a place perfectly 
safe, in a town where the government, called of Order ^ had been 
reestablished for several months, and where everybody knew 
that the victim was but a simple chaplain of the army. In this 
manner Bedini had Bassi shot, without even allowing him a trial. 
Bedini now adduces a protest, but it is an infamous imposture. 
He asserts that it was General Gorgowsky who had Bassi shot. 
No — for Bassi was not in the power of the General. This might 
have been the case had Bassi been shot on the field of battle, 
and had the above-named general given orders to the soldiers 
who captured him. But at Bologna the supreme authority was 
vested in the person of the Commissary-Extraordinary, Bedini ; 
and Bassi's fate depended so much the more on Bedini, because 
Bassi, being a priest, enjoyed the privilege of the Ecclesiastical 
Tribunal. General Gorgowsky had no right whatsoever, and 
never would attempt, to subject Bassi to the jurisdiction of war, 
he being a priest and a chaplain, not a soldier ; nor do Austrians 
themselves shoot chaplains who go on the field of battle to assist 
the dying. 



APPENDIX. 377 



This story about the Austrian general is a mere exoneration 
of the fact. Influential persons used their utmost eflbrts with 
Bedini to induce him to spare Bassi's life. Amongst them may- 
be numbered Cardinal Archbishop Oppizzoni, of Bologna, who 
warmly interceded for Bassi. But to all entreaties Bedini an- 
swered that he could do nothing for him, having received precise 
previous orders from the Pope to put Bassi to death, as also seve- 
ral others, should they fa?ll into his hands. 

The following important statement, which fully corroborates 
our assertions accusing Bedini of having murdered Ugo Bassi, is 
taken from the Parlamento of Turin, August 31st, 1853, a news- 
paper which, although constitutional, may be considered totally 
anti-republican, it being the semi-official paper of the Sardinian 
Ministry : 

" When Ugo Bassi and his unfortunate fellow-prisoners were 
brought before the Austrian council of war in Bologna, Monsig- 
nor Bedini governed that province as Commissary-Extraordinary, 
and chose the victims whom anger and military vengeance were 
to strike. The first he chose was Father Bassi, as worths/ of im- 
mediate death / The council of war decreed it. It is now shame- 
fully false that he should deny his responsibility for that shocking 
murder ; for the Cardinal Archbishop having interceded in 
order to save Bassi, at least from being shot, and the Austrians 
feigning to listen for a moment to the entreaties of the Arch- 
bishop, Bedini entered the council-room furiously^ and insisted and 
said so much, that the judges at last pronounced the terrible sentence, 
and the Governor had it executed. ^^ 



32* 



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697 Broadway, New York, 



PuhUsked by James S. Bicker son. 



INDESTRUCTIBLE 

PRIKTBD ON LmBN, BBAUTIFULLY OOLOBEI*, FAJVQULY : 

DEATH AND BURIAL OF COCK EOBIK, 
OLD MOTHEB HTTBBARD. 
LITTLE BO PEEP. 
CAT AND THE MOUSE. 

These are capital books for children, as they can not be torn, and can 
be restored to nearly their natural beauty by being ironed out after they 
have apparently been hopelessly damaged by infantile combativeness. 

" I beep my little boy quiet by the hour in reciting to hiin from your books the mournful 
history of poor^' Cock RoMd,' and the remarkable feats of that noted dog of ' Old Mother 
Hubbard,' — Communication to the p2iblisker from ^^ the head of a family.'^ 

HABEY'S LADDEH TO LEAENIHC^ ; 

In Progressive Steps. The Picture Book — The Horn Book — Nursery* 
Songs — Nursery Tales — Simple Stories — Country Walks. Illus- 
trated by 230 Engravings. Neatly bound in cloth, with Plates 
colored. $1,75. 

A good book for a boy, in which learning is stiipped of its kksomoness, and is made au 
easy and a delightful taak. It is by making the path to knowledge Inviting that the young 
will be allured from thoughtless and mischievous play, 

PABLOR MAGIC. 

Comprising a Series of Experiments, Chemical and Optical ] Sleights 
and Subtleties, Entertainments, etc, etc., for the Instruction and 
Amusement of Youth. Numerous Engravings on Wood. Third 
edition. $1.50. 



Books for Yoimg People, 



GRIMM'S HOUSEHOLD STORIES. 

The celebrated Stories of the Brothers Grimm. Complete edition. 

Embellished with 200 small and 36 fiiU-page Illustrations. 2 vols* 

crown 8vo, clotli, extra gilt. $3. 
The same, 3 vols., with the large plates colored. Cloth, gilt extra. 

$4 50. 

i 
\"^^ Each volume complete in itself, and can be sold separately. > 

ADVENTURES OF A BEAR, AND A GREAT BEAR, TOO; 

By Alfked Elwes. Nine Illustrations by Harrison Weir, colored 
Plates. Small 4to, cloth, $1.50, 

Bound uniform with the " Adyentures of a Dog," and together with that popular hook, 
has GDJoyed an immense sale. 

THE BOY'S OWN BOOK; 

A complete Encyclopasdia of all the Diversions, Athletic, Scientific, 
and Eecreative, of Boyhood and Youth. With several hundred 
Wood Cuts. ISTew edition, greatly enlarged and improved, hand- 
somely bound. $2.50. 

This hook will he read with the deepest interest as long as boys lore sport and parents 
desire to afford them innocent amusement 

ROUND GAJttES FOR ALL PARTIES ; 

A Collection of the greatest variety of Family Amusements, for Fire- 
side or Pic WiQ ; for the use of Old and Young, and adapted to the 
understandings of Children from the ages of seven to seventy. 
Square 12mo, cloth. $1.50. 

No family in which children reside, or where they are to he entertained, should he with- 
out this complete book of innocent and amusing games. 

ACTING CHARADES; 

Or Deeds not Words. A Christmas Game, to make a long evening 
short. By the Brothers MayTieio. Illustrated by H. G. Hine. 
Small 4to, cloth, gilt eddies. $1.50. 



Published by James S. ^ickerson. 



THE BEST AND CHEAPEST JUVENILE MAGAZINE IN 
THE UNITED STATES. 



Edited by 

MR. W. C. EICHAEB3 AND "COUSIN ALICE." 



This work has been in existence for five years, during wliich time it 
has acquired a degree of popularity unrivalled in the history of juvenile 
works, and frequently been pronounced by the press, both North and 
South, '^ the best and cheapest Juvenile Magazine in the United States." 

The Schoolfellow is devoted ta the instruction and gratification of the 
young of both sexes, and aims at the cultivation of the heart as well as 
of the mind. It is an original iiiagazine, and its articles are prepared 
for its pages by many of the best writers for the young in the country. 
Heretofore edited by Mr. Bichards, it will continue under his general 
ATperintendence, with the constant aid of '^ Cousin Alice," (Mrs. Alice 
B. Neal,) the popular author of the " Home Books," whose name alone 
is a talisman to command the love and favor of children, supported by a 
large number of favorite writers. 

The Pictorial Illustrations of the work are engraved from choice and 
original designs, by skillful artists, and are unequalled in variety and 
beauty by those of any other Juvenile Magazine. 

Great improvements have been made without regard to expense, and 
consist of a larger number of pages, new and handsomer type, more 
Illustrations and better executed. Postmasters arc requested to act as 
agents for the work, and may retain the usual commission for 7iew sub- 
soribers. Specimen copies sent gratis on application, fost-jja-id, to the 
J^ublishers. The volume commences Avith the January Number, and 



Books for Y(ncng Peojjle. 



back numbers of the volume will always be forwarded. To any who 
wish them, we can supply bound volumes of the Schoolfellow from 
the first, at $1 25 per volume. 
Temoa; Onf. Dollar a year, in AnvANOE. 

JAMES S. DICKERSOIsr, Publisher, 

687 Broadway, New-Yorfe. 

0?INI0K3 OF THE PRESS. 

From almost ^n innumerable number of notices kindly and voluntarily 

given the Schooli^elloWj vv^e select the followlBg : 

" We can recommend it liS oiie well caleulttted to interest and enlighten the rising genera- 
tion." — Jefferso7iian Republican. 

*' A beautiful little magaziao. Its contents are Tery nicely adapted to the age and capa- 
city of youth, and are of a pleasing and elevating character." — Syracuse Journal. 

" It is a peifect gem in the way of print and illustrations. If all parents paid proper 
attention to the reading of their little ones, and awakened in them a lore of books by fur* 
nishing them with tales and sprightly miscellanies such as this, we should hare few such 
precocious men and women as some of our young friends wo know of' — Godey'^s Lady'& 
Book. 

"Wo call the attention of those who need to pni-vey mental aliment for the young to thia 
magazine. The names of the editors will be a guarantee of the skillful adaptation of the^ 
Avork to those for whom it is designed, and also of its sound moral tendency.'" — N. Y. Recorder^ 

" The work is cheap, and a dollar thus Invested will pay a better interest than twenty 
times that amount otherwise paid for the amusement of the young." — Temperance Advo-- 
cate, {S. C.) 

" It Is an original magazine, and its articles are prepared by many of the best \yTiters foir 
the young in this country."— yermo?ii Statesman. 

" Keplete with matter which is at once pleasant and Insti'uctive, A delightful peiiodieal, 
^.•r youth." — Saratoga Whig. 

" E^ery youth from fiye to fifteen should be in possession of iV^Mich. Citizen. 

" The reading matter is of the right sovV—'North- Carolina News. 

" No family, where childi'en are, should be without iV'*-Mas$. Telegraph. 

" It is well calculated to encourage the young to aspii'e to excellence and fame. It Is botK 
entertaining and insti'uctiye, and is unsurpassed by any magazine of its kind.— iV. F. Cottu 
Adveriiscr. 

"A liyely miscellany of decided merit, fi'om tJie pens of some of our best writers for 
children. It is pervaded by a ^vholly moral tone, and deserves aa tn'^rease of its already; 
extensive circulation." — Evangelical Catholic^ 



HOME LIFE. 

Being Twelve Lectures by Rev. WM. HAGUE, D. 0. 

Vrice, $1. Gilt, $1.25. 



Qi^^HMlSOo' 



The following is the Table of Conteniis, and will indicate the character and 
scope of the book : 



Lecture I. — The Marriage Institution. 

Lecture IL — Dutica of the Husband. 

Lecture III, — Duties of the ^Vife. 

Lecture IF.— Duties of Parents to Chil 
dren. 

Lecture V. — Duties of Children to Fa- 
rents. 

Lecture VI. — Duties of Brothers and 
Sisters. 



Lectv/te F7/.— Mutual Duties of House 

holders and Servants. 
Lecture iT///.— -Duties of Principals ia^ 

Clerks and Apprentices. 
Lecture /X.~- Duties of Young Men to 

their Employers. 
Lecture X'-The Use and Abuse of 

Amusements. 
Lecture X/.--The Family Library. 
Lecture X//.— The Self-Governed Man, 



The classical elegance and simplicity of the style, and the warmth and 
naturalness of the elocjuence of these lectures, justify the great favor with which 
they were delivered, and mark the present volume as a valuable and popular 
contribution to our literature. 

"These lectures, by Dr. Hague, are on the various domestic relations and duties. The subject 
is a most important one, and by the distinguished author is treated in an eminently phliosophicai 
and scriptural manner. The times demand just such a work as is here produced, for the family, 
shedding a hallowed light on home, promoting disciplme, inspiring affection, fostering the social 
virtues, and preparing for a steady, strong, and salutary mfluence in all the varied walks of 
society. We think of no man better qualified for the great and responsible task than Dr. Hague. 
Ills well-trained mind, his noble heart, his purity of life, and his wide reputation as a Christian 
sninister, all go to fit him to write out and publish such a book as is needed. Could it be introduced 
into every family, carefuliy and candidly read, and the lessons it inculcates diligently heeded, it 
would be worth mere than any inheritance of silver and gold. Parents will do well to obtain 
this book, and place it on the parlor table for their own use, and that of their children. Mr, 
Dickerson, the young and enterprising publisher, has given it to us in a neat, substantial, and 
attractive style', every way worthy of the author and the subject."— C/tnisti(X7i ChronicU. 

"To many of our citizens, the Twev. William Hague is too well known to require, at our 
hands, any recommendation of whatever issues from his pen. But we cannot forbear calJing the 
attention of those less acquainted with his peculiar merits as a writer, to an admirable book 
called "Home Life," which bears his name as author, recently published in New-York, by 
Evans & Dickerson, and for sale here by Gould & Lincoln. It is a complete manual of practical 
duty in all the spheres and relations of life ; and difibrs from similar works in the clear directions 
given, and the exigencies met by the waiter. Only a clergyman of remarkable parochial talent 
and faithfulne.ss, conM have written such a book. It is the result of years of duty and observation. 
All young men, families, wives, husbands, daughters, sons, clerks, and servaut^i, will find in it 
invaluable suggestions afibclionately enforced."— ^o^^on Transa'iiiU 



"A CAPITAL BOOK FOE THE HOME-CIRCLE.'' 



HARRY'S VACATION; 

OR, 

PHILOSOPHY AT HOME. 

BY W. C. RIOPIAKOS, A.M. 

niusfxated with Six Elegant Engravings, from Designs by Thwaites. 

ONE VOLUME, 1610, CLOTH, EXTRA. 

This book is designed to instruct as well as to delight the young reader. It 
seeks to teach the most beautiful and important truths and principles of natural 
science in the fascinating guise of story. The incidents which occur in the 
experience of a happy family group, during the Christmas holidays of the young 
people, are all made to minister to their knowledge of philosophy. The acci- 
dental fall of a dish from the fingers of a careless servant forms the text of a dis- 
cussion on gravitation. The frost-work upon the window-panes, a soap-bubble 
rolling upon the carpet, a school-boy's sport with "a sucker" — these and a hun- 
dred other apparent trifles are pegs upon which are hung the most valuable les- 
sons of practical wisdom. Almost all the branches of physical science are illustrated 
in the development of the story ; and the intelligent child may gather more dis- 
tinct and accurate ideas about them, almost unconsciously, while following the 
sports and pastimes of Harry and his companions, than he could possiby derive 
from text-books on science in a quarter's hard study. The author's familiarity 
with the sciences has enabled him to interweave their leading facts into the 
thread of the story, with due regard to philosophical accuracy, while it ia 
never burdened with the technicalities of science, or made dull by diy and 
tedious explanations. The days of '^ Harry's Vacation" flew not more rapidly by 
to the delighted inmates of Beech wood, than will the hours to those young peo- 
ple who«e good fortune it may be to read th'^ charming story of their experiences 
and pastimes. Probably no book for the young has ever been published in 
which amusement and instruction are so happily and successfully blended, and 
which deserves to obtain a larger degree of popularity than this beautiful vol- 
ume. Nor will the young alone find interest ia its pages, but *' children of a 
larger growth" may derive both knowledge and gratification in itti pleaa^n^ 
" Philosophy at Home." 



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